


We Move Like Lovers

by TotidemVerbis



Category: Generation Kill, The Pacific (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gang AU, Graphic Violence, Humorous Violence, M/M, Surprisingly Fluffy For A Gang AU, more tags to come
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2019-02-20 00:22:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 44,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13135266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TotidemVerbis/pseuds/TotidemVerbis
Summary: A GK Gang AU, because why not?Ray Person is just living his life, one day at a time, and isn’t expecting things to change. That’s the best part about being in a gang, right? Knowing the rules and knowing that things never really seem to change. Then everything enters into FUBAR territory, and everyone has to learn to adjust. It’s a good thing Ray is a master at adaptation.





	1. Appearances

**Author's Note:**

> I told myself to wait before posting this until I had a few more chapters written, but it’s my birthday and I feel like posting _something_. So this is kind of like a prologue, and this story is going to skip back and forth a lot. Pay attention to the dates. I’ll try to remind people about where things in the timeline are at the beginning of each chapter, but it’s best to keep an eye on the dates. 
> 
> Also, it’s important to note that this is going to be a Gang AU. Think _Sons of Anarchy_ but without motorcycles. So there’s a blanket warning on this fic for violence, horrible language, and other things along those lines. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own _Generation Kill_ in any kind of way, and I mean no disrespect to the real men. This story is based on the characters from the show and nothing more.

[ ](http://s1290.photobucket.com/user/IronBat/media/HBO%20WAR/WMLLBanner_zpsaglf77jg.jpg.html)

**2018 October 27**

_Let’s get one motherfucking thing straight. This here is a goddamn love story. I’m talking flowers, declarations under moonlight, all that shit. Just because the flowers were used to lightly bludgeon some asshole and the declarations were made after a little bit of blood loss doesn’t mean this isn’t a love story. Because that’s what it is. You got me?_

**FWUMP-FWUMP-FWUMP**

“Stop jerking it to memories of your favorite goat and get the fuck out here! We’ve got places to be!”

Ray looks down at his side and lightly pats against the raised skin. The sutures are so perfect that they’d bring a tear of pride to Doc’s eyes, if he wasn’t so busy taking care of some other sad sacks. He smooths his shirt down, grins when he realizes that the blood stains don’t show against the dark fabric, and yanks open the bathroom door just as Brad raises his fist to start pounding on it again. 

“Untwist your panties, I’m comin,” Ray announces and swaggers out of the bathroom. He shouldn’t be swaggering, because of the freshly sewn gash on his right side, but he’s gotta keep up appearances. Don’t wanna scare the locals. The few people hiding out next to the men’s bathrooms are already looking at Brad like he’s about to go on a murderous rampage. Oh, wait. 

“Move your ass, goat-fucker,” Brad growls and pushes against the center of his back. Okay, so maybe Ray shouldn’t have put that stuffed goat head in Brad’s bed last Christmas. Brad clearly has a goat complex now. 

“I wasn’t thinkin’ of the goat this time!” Ray yells over the sound of pulsing music. They’re walking in front of the main bar of the nightclub now, with bodies packed all around them, but Ray can feel Brad looming behind him as they power walk towards the back exit on the other side of the bar. Ray places a hand flat against the back door and imagines he can see the blood he’d just washed off his hands, and he feels the toes of Brad’s shoes against the heels of his boots. They’re in a hurry, there’s things that need to be done, but… _appearances_. He can’t show how messed up he is inside. He has to be Ray. So he yells one last nonsensical piece of bullshit before pushing open the door and stepping outside. “The sheep has better handholds!”

_At the end of the day, this is the greatest fucking love story of all time. Right now, in the middle of the night, it’s a love story served up with a side of a whole bunch of dead stupid motherfuckers. Because Ray’s a romantic like that._


	2. A Small Change

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember how I told you to pay attention to the dates? This is why. The first chapter takes place in October 2018, and this chapter starts off over five years before that. Don’t worry though, the story is going to stay pretty linear until it catches up to October 2018. That being said, there’s a lot of skipping forward in this chapter. Also, this chapter is super long to make up for the really short chapter last time. To put it in perspective, the last chapter had only 440 words and this one has over 16,000. So, happy reading!

**2013 March 6**

It’s late when Ray finally pulls up into his driveway. It’s so late and he’s so tired that he spends the next minute just sitting behind the wheel, looking out at his small house packed in between other small houses. He’s not really seeing the house though. Shit, he’s so tired that he’s not really processing anything. Which is a good thing, because he’s pretty sure that he’s got a few aches and pains spread throughout his body. He knows he can’t just sit in his beat-up old jeep for the rest of the night though, so he forces his hands off the steering wheel and then tips out of the open driver door. His boots scrape across the sidewalk because he doesn’t pick up his feet enough, and it takes him five tries to get his key in the door.

The relief that comes from stepping into a house where he can safely pass out lasts all of two seconds. The door has barely closed behind him before something pushes at his chest, and the door rattles as his back is pushed against it. His first instinct is to fight back, lash out, but he locks himself in place instead. He does have some restraint, okay? He can feel the muscle in his jaw ticking as he keeps his eyes open, and hands push against his chest again as dark eyes meet his. 

“Where the fuck were you?!” Macy yells. Her dark hair is wild around her and her bottom lip is bitten red, and they’ve only been officially dating for about three months but have known each other for a lot longer. So Ray can read her. Macy’s been worried, probably about him. No, definitely about him.

“I was at the—” Before he can tell another lie, Macy slaps her palms against his chest again and forces him back against the door. Like he isn’t already bruised enough?

“Don’t say the club again! I know you’re not just some bartender!” He really is a bartender though, just to be clear. It’s just not all that he is. Something must be showing on his face, because Macy’s lips twist and then she reaches up to swipe her thumb across the corner of his lip. “You’re bleeding, Ray. You come and go at all hours of the day and night, you’re always bruised or cut up, and I know when something is up. I’m not stupid, okay? So don’t treat me like I am.”

Ray likes Macy. That’s pretty obvious, since they’re official and actually living together, but he was friends with Macy first. She’s smart, and she doesn’t put up with bullshit. So even though he knows that he shouldn’t, he starts talking. Tells her that he really is a bartender at Bravo, but that the nightclub doubles as a front for the gang that runs Mathilda City. Ray’s only been in for five months now, so he’s at the bottom of the totem pole. He’s under the totem pole, which is why he keeps getting the shit jobs. When he tells Macy that, she asks her first question. 

_What do the Devil Dogs do? You dealin’ drugs now, Ray? Are you killin’ people?_

Again, he tells her the truth. Lets it all come out. Nothing happens in Mathilda City that the Devil Dogs don’t know about, or controls. The guy who runs the Devil Dogs, an ex-marine who actually calls himself Godfather, runs Mathilda. That’s around the time that Macy really starts to look worried, and Ray’s quick to reassure her that it’s not a dictatorship or anything. Yeah, Godfather is King Shit and all, but there’s a hierarchy. He explains it to her the way that Brad, his sponsor or handler or what-the-fuck-ever, explained it to him. Under Godfather there’s a couple of lieutenants, some captains, a shit-ton of sergeants (like Brad), and then there’s all the lowly soldiers like Ray. The soldiers don’t really get much say in anything, but the others get to vote on the big stuff. Majority rules, so Godfather can’t just do whatever he wants. By the time he finishes explaining all of that, him and Macy are sitting on the couch. She’s quiet for a minute and then asks her next question. 

_I know this is probably a dumb question, but I’m still in shock. Are you safe?_

It’s a valid question, but it takes him a moment to answer. All he wants is to sleep for several hours, and maybe grab something to eat and a shower. Sleep is his first priority though. No, wait, answering Macy is his first priority. Because he likes Macy. Yeah, he’s only eighteen and Macy is his first real girlfriend, but he thinks what they have is something real. So he’s gotta answer her. He tells her that there’s going to be risks, that’s kind of obvious, but he’s safer as a part of the Dogs. At least he has people that will look out for him. Macy just nods at that, and Ray doesn’t like the pinched look on her face. She’s got her feet pulled up onto the couch so that she can wrap her arms tight around her knees, and it looks like she’s shaking. So Ray asks his first question.

_You gonna leave me now?_

Her eyes open wide at the question and then she’s suddenly laughing. A real laugh too, with her whole body rocking with the sound. She uncurls from the tight ball she’d been in as the laughter dies off, and Ray tries not to wince as she cuddles up to his side. He’d taken a few kicks to the ribs earlier, before Brad swooped in with some headshots, but he can handle a little bit of pain. Especially since Macy is smiling now as she holds onto him. She’s soft and warm against him, and the light from the muted TV flashes in her dark eyes. He’s still just looking at her, trying to figure out if he’s awake or dreaming, when she asks her last question.

_I won’t leave if you don’t. Deal?_

Macy’s tougher than most of the so-called soldiers that Ray’s been dealing with, and sometimes he isn’t sure why she’s with him. He’s not going to ask her though, because then she might realize she can do better than him and take off. Ray’s honest enough with himself to admit that he’s selfish, and he doesn’t want to lose her. He likes having someone to come home to, especially on nights like these. So he wraps an arm around her to pull her in tighter against him and tells her that he ain’t going anywhere.

Two years and two months later, Macy finally wizens up and leaves him. Ray takes comfort in the fact that he wasn’t the one who broke their deal.

**2015 May 20**

“You’re really sure about this?” Walt asks him as they’re carrying in another set of boxes. Ray looks over his shoulder, because he can navigate his house blindfolded, and raises a brow as he meets Walt’s eyes.

“Do you want to keep living with Garza, Chaffin, and Lilley?” Ray’s been to their house, and it’s okay. It just feels small because there’s four dudes living in a house that should really only have two people in it at the most. 

“Well, no, but Macy’s only been gone for two weeks.” Walt kind of has a point there. He and Macy moved into the house together, the tiny little house his grandmother left him in her will, and it was just the two of them for two years. Maybe it’s too soon to be moving Walt into the guest room, but Ray doesn’t like coming home to an empty house. 

“Hey, you don’t wanna stay here, just say the word. We’ll move all of these boxes right back out.” They’re standing in the guest room now, which has several boxes filled with all of Walt’s shit spread around it, and Ray watches as Walt slowly looks around at the room. When he finally turns back around to face Ray, he’s smiling. 

“If we did that, we’d be late,” Walt says while holding that sunny smile. Ray still can’t get over how someone who smiles like there’s sunshine coming outta their ass can outshoot snipers that have been shooting fuckers for years. Ray’s glad that Walt’s his friend, even if Walt is a contradictory hick. 

“And we can’t have that, newbie! Let’s roll!” Ray yells as he walks past Walt and out of the room. He can hear Walt walking behind him, his shoes echoing against the hardwood floors, and he pats his pocket to make sure that he still has his keys. 

“It’s been over a year, Ray! I’m not the new guy anymore!” It sounds like Walt is pouting, but Ray doesn’t check. Instead he locks the front door before pulling it closed and then leads the way over to his beat-up jeep. He’s surprised the damn thing is still running, and he’s half convinced that the clunker is going to out-live him. 

Ray drives him and Walt out to Delta, which is the Devil Dog’s nightclub in the northern part of Mathilda. Ray prefers Bravo, but he might be a little biased towards the southern-based nightclub since he’s been working there since joining the Dogs. Bravo is a bit more relaxed though, while Delta is a little too classy for his tastes. He always feels out of place in his baggy tee shirt and clunky boots, but he definitely isn’t the only one who looks out of place in the fancy club. Not by a longshot. 

He and Walt make small-talk as Ray drives, mostly arguing about what to have for dinner that night, so it doesn’t feel like it takes long at all to reach Delta. The parking lot isn’t full, but Ray recognizes several of the vehicles spread throughout the lot. They’re not the last ones to arrive, but it’s close. Ray is still explaining the benefits of Chinese over pizza to Walt as they walk inside, so he doesn’t see Brad until it’s too late. The tall motherfucker grabs him by the back of the neck before he can reach the doorway leading to the offices upstairs, and Ray squawks as Brad gives him a light shake. Walt, the traitor, actually laughs.

“Hands off the merchandise, asshole!” Ray yells and tries to squirm away from Brad. Ray looks small, especially compared to most of the higher-ups in the Dogs, but he’s no push-over. Brad just so happens to be the reincarnation of some kind of Viking with a bear-like grip.

“Doc said you skipped your last two check-ups, Ray.” Brad’s voice is calm, barely any inflection, and that’s how Ray knows that Brad means business. When Brad is calm, shit is about to go down. 

“Because I didn’t need to go!” Ray protests and tries to twist away again. Brad’s fingers just tighten around the back of his neck and then Ray feels something pulling at the bottom of his shirt. “Quit micromanagin’ me, you anal retentive freak! Lemme go!”

“Check-up first.” Walt’s doubled over in laughter now as Ray tries to get away from Brad, who is still trying to pull his shirt up, and they’re making so much noise that none of them notice when they’re joined by someone else.

“Gentlemen.” Ray and Brad freeze at the quiet voice, and Walt’s laughter abruptly cuts off as he straightens up. Ray is bent backwards like he’s practicing for a round of limbo, and Brad is holding his shirt up and has it twisted up under his pits. It’s not a very dignified position to be caught in, as Brad would say. 

“Sir,” Brad says first. The lieutenant looks at them with a blank look on his face, and Ray resists the urge to fidget. Nate Fick might look like some kind of hipster college student at first glance, but Ray knows better. Fick is one of two lieutenants, and the only person higher up than the lieutenants is Godfather. So while Brad is technically Ray’s boss, Fick is Ray’s Boss. Capital B. 

“Why are you assaulting Person?” Hey! The lieutenant remembers his name! It’s rare for the higher-ups to remember the lowly soldier’s names, even if Ray is one of the top ranking soldiers. 

“He got shot last month and has been skipping his check-ups. I’m making sure he’s still in working order,” Brad explains. Ray rolls his eyes as dramatically as he can and then meets the lieutenant’s eyes, which actually isn’t much of a hardship because the dude has really pretty eyes. (Don’t judge him. He can notice pretty eyes if he wants to.)

“I got grazed, and I’m perfectly fine. Bradley’s just a control freak,” Ray says while managing to keep a straight face. He isn’t sure if he wants to glare at Brad or blush under the lieutenant’s steady gaze, so he stays expressionless to play it safe. 

“Grazed where?” At the LT’s question, Brad moves the hand on Ray’s neck to his shoulder and forcibly turns him to the side. A bullet grazed his left hip, and there’s still an angry looking red line right above the line of his jeans. Ray holds still long enough for the LT to see the mark, which has healed perfectly fine and doesn’t require him to go in for check-ups, and then finally pulls himself away from Brad. 

“So, am I cleared now?” Ray asks and looks between his two…superiors? Nah, he’s not calling them superiors. They just outrank him a little. 

“I think you’ll live.” The LT actually smiles a little after saying it, which is something that Ray’s never seen. The younger lieutenant always looks so serious during the big meetings, and Ray rarely sees him at Bravo even though he runs the place. Or does the LT own it? Ray can’t remember at the moment. 

“Such a pity,” Brad murmurs as Ray smooths his shirt down. The LT has already moved around them and started up the stairs towards the offices, so Ray glares up at Brad.

“You’d miss me and you know it,” Ray hisses. Then he looks over his shoulder at Walt, “And we’re getting Chinese tonight because you’re a traitor!”

“I didn’t do anything!” Walt calls after him. Ray’s already running up the stairs and away from the awkward situation that he was just in, and he knows Brad and Walt are right behind him. They sound like a herd of elephants clomping up the stairs. 

Once they reach the office where the big meetings are held, all three of them go silent. The chair at the head of the table is empty, because Godfather is usually the last to show. Ray’s pretty sure it’s a show of dominance thing, but he hasn’t shared that theory with anyone yet. Maybe he’ll ask Walt later and see what he thinks. The two lieutenants are already sitting to the left and right of the head of the table, with the four captains sitting split in pairs next to them. Brad joins the rest of the sergeants that round out the table, and Walt and Ray move to stand at the back of the room against the wall. Only the top ten ranking soldiers get to go to the meetings, but they don’t get to vote. They just get to observe and stand around. It’s all kind of boring, really, but it’s supposed to be an honor or some shit like that. That was how Brad spun it anyway the first time he told Ray he had to go to a meeting. 

The next hour drags on and Ray tunes out for most of it, but he catches the gist of things while trying to keep his mind clear. He doesn’t want to think about the newest mark on his body, about how he was shot a month ago, or about coming home two weeks ago to an empty house and a note taped to the fridge. Nope, he doesn’t want to think about any of it. So he resolutely doesn’t think about any of it and instead just runs numbers in his head as he watches the expressions on the officer’s faces. Most of them aren’t even trying to look interested in the proceedings. Everyone looks bored out of their minds.

“I’ve got a compromise,” Walt whispers as the meeting finally comes to an end. Everyone is talking quietly and milling about, and Ray and Walt are just waiting for Brad to tell them that they can leave. Which should be any second now. 

“Compromise on what?” Ray asks and tracks Brad’s movements. He’s talking to another sergeant, Pappy, so who knows how long it’ll take for Brad to come dismiss them. Sometimes the rules really suck, like having to wait for permission to leave. 

“On dinner. We can get Mexican.” Ray looks away from Brad and over at Walt, and he quickly thinks it over. Yeah, he can live with Mexican tonight. 

“Deal.” Brad breaks away from Pappy and heads their way, and Ray starts to lose the tension he didn’t even realize he was holding. He hates their monthly meetings, even though he understands the importance of them. Doesn’t mean he has to like all the bureaucracy bullshit. 

“Did either of you get any of that?” Brad asks and looks between them. Ray looks at Walt and raises a brow, and Walt straightens his shoulders as he looks straight ahead with a blank face. 

“Stay under the radar. Don’t fuck up. Don’t get dead,” Walt lists off.

“What he said,” Ray says and grins up at Brad. Brad’s face doesn’t really change, but Ray can tell he’s trying not to smile. Oh yeah, Brad thinks they’re hilarious.

“Get the fuck out of here, and don’t be late for work.” Walt and Ray both snap off salutes, because they’re assholes like that, and they don’t start laughing until they hit the parking lot. 

Okay, so Macy is gone. Ray’s girlfriend left him, but nothing has really changed. Everything else is still the same, and Ray will be okay. It’s just a small adjustment.

**2016 February 12**

“Ray!” He pops up from behind the bar and looks around for Brad, who isn’t that hard to spot despite the large crowd, because Brad is one tall motherfucker. “Office!”

“Give me five!” Brad nods and then disappears, and Ray quickly finishes making the last of his orders. He’s working what they affectionately call the Office Bar, because it sits right in front of the door that leads to the office in the basement , and it’s the smaller of the two bars in the nightclub. Ray catches Walt’s eye and points behind him, and Walt gives him a thumbs-up before turning to take another order. 

Ray makes his way towards the office door, after weaving around bodies and doing his best not to knock into anyone, and he pauses for a breather once the basement door closes behind him. He can still feel the bass from the music against the door, but the door still acts as a pretty good buffer. A good enough buffer for him to take a moment to collect himself before heading down the stairs, and he’s not freaking out. He’s totally calm, even though he’s never been asked down to the office before. He keeps his steps light as he goes down the stairs and starts down the dark hallway, and he can see light coming from a cracked open door at the end of the hallway. He can also hear voices, and it’s not like he’s eavesdropping. They know he’s coming. 

“Didn’t you call Person a list of derogatory terms just yesterday?” That’s definitely the LT’s voice, and Ray slows down just a little more to hear the answer. 

“He takes insults as praise,” Brad says easily. 

“You insult him to let him know that he’s doing well?” The LT sounds confused, and Ray really doesn’t blame him. He and Brad have developed their own language over the years, and it takes a special kind of person to understand what they’re really saying under all of the colorful insults. 

“It’s a system that works for both of us.” Okay, Ray’s heard enough. So he starts walking again even as Brad keeps speaking. “I wouldn’t recommend him if I didn’t believe he was the best fit for the job. Person’s solid, sir, and smarter than he lets on.”

Ha! Ray knew that Brad liked him. He gives himself a mental pat on the back before pushing open the cracked door and standing in the doorway, and he smiles just a little as he raps his knuckles against the thick wood of the door. Brad and the LT both turn to look at him at the same time, it’s a little eerie how in tune they are, and Ray finds himself instinctively straightening up at the combined stares. (He blames that crazy training shit all the new soldiers have to go through. Sometimes Ray thinks that Godfather forgot that he left the marines to run a gang, because Ray’s pretty sure he went through some kind of boot camp when he first started out.) 

“You called?” Ray asks Brad. Brad steps away from the LT’s desk and faces Ray, and Ray knows that it’s something serious because of the tense set of Brad’s jaw. _Shit_. They better not be sending him out on another hunting mission. Last time he got stuck hunting some asshole down, he spent three weeks in the swamps of Louisiana. They’re not fond memories. 

“Someone has threatened our LT’s life, and Godfather is taking the threat seriously. He wants someone to keep an eye on the LT at all times to ensure his safety.” Ray nods at that until what Brad’s saying sinks in, and he points a single finger up at his own face. 

“You want that someone to be me?” His eyes dart over to the LT, but he’s looking down at his desk and clenching his jaw. Probably doesn’t like the idea of being babysat by a soldier. It’s not a job that Ray’s looking forward to either. 

“We can’t spare any sergeants for the job, and they asked me to pick our best soldier. Are you going to make a liar out of me, Ray?” Ray crosses his arms and locks his knees, and he smiles up at Brad until he knows there’s a deep dimple in his cheek. 

“Never, homes. So how are we doin’ this?” The LT finally looks up again at that and over at Brad, and Brad smiles at the LT with some kind of expression that Ray can’t decipher before looking at Ray again. 

“You will not leave the LT’s side until the threat has been eliminated. Wherever he goes, you go. Whatever happens to him, happens to you.” Threat received. If the LT dies, so does Ray. This really must be something serious. Brad walks across the room until he’s standing next to Ray, and Ray has to tip his head back enough to hurt his neck a little to meet Brad’s eyes. “No fuck-ups, Ray.”

“No fuck-ups,” Ray promises. Brad slaps his shoulder before walking off, and Ray takes in a slow breath before turning his head to look at the LT. 

“So, what are we doing tonight?”

**.xXx.**

The answer to Ray’s question was not a single motherfucking thing. Well, the LT is doing some kind of paperwork at his desk while Ray sits on the single couch in the room and stares up at the ceiling. He’s bored out of his mind and it’s only been two hours. How long is he gonna have to do this? One night? Two? A week? He doesn’t want to sit in an office bored out of his mind for a week. Maybe the LT will let him bring a coloring book or something if this lasts for longer than a night or two.

“I thought Brad said you had a problem with keeping quiet.” The sound of the LT’s voice startles him a little, and Ray lets his chin drop as he looks over at where the LT is still flipping through notes.

“Nah, Brad just loves the sound of my voice and I’m accommodating like that.” The LT looks up and over at him at that, and Ray smooths his hands over his bouncing knees. “Just don’t wanna disturb you. Sir.”

The LT smiles a little, probably inwardly laughing at the small pause before Ray remembered to be all political, and Ray feels himself relax some. He doesn’t look angry, like some of the other officers would if they felt a soldier wasn’t showing them the proper respect. Nah, the LT probably finds Ray amusing. Which is definitely something that Ray can live with. He’s good with amusing. It’s better than an officer thinking he’s insubordinate or some crazy shit like that. 

“You’re not talking, but it’s like I can see you thinking.” Ray pulls out his circling thoughts and grins, because the LT isn’t wrong. It doesn’t matter if Ray is talking or not. His brain never really shuts up. “I don’t mind if you talk, Person. Anything is better than staring down at this paperwork in silence.”

“Want me to get some music down here, sir?” Ray glances up at the ceiling as he asks the question, and he looks down to see that the LT is leaned back in his comfy looking chair and staring up at the ceiling. They’re apparently too far down to really hear the music that’s being played in the club, but they can hear the echoes. If Ray closes his eyes and really concentrates, it’s like he can still feel the bass pulsing throughout the building. 

“I think I’ll pass.” The LT smiles without looking away from the ceiling, and Ray relaxes against the back of the couch as he crosses his arms over his chest.

“I know Q-Tip’s musical tastes are questionable, but I’ve been told it’s still better than listening to one of my rants. Don’t worry about sparing my feelings, sir.” The other man is still smiling when he looks back down and over at Ray, and it’s a good look on the LT. Even if the wide smile does make him look even younger, which Ray didn’t think was possible until this moment. Why’s the LT in the basement of a nightclub and filling out paperwork for a gang? He should be in a library studying for a big test, or possibly partying upstairs with his bros. 

“I’ll keep that in mind, Person, as long as you promise not to keep silent on my account.” It’s nice of the LT offer, and Ray is definitely going to promise him even though he has no intention of doing any such thing. Yeah, he might be chill for an officer so far, but Ray isn’t stupid. The LT must have some dark hidden depths under that young face. How else would he be a lieutenant?

“You got it, sir.” Ray’s fingers twitch, like he wants to snap off a salute, so he curls his fingers around his bicep to help him fight the impulse. That kind of thing makes Brad laugh, but the LT might take it differently. It’s better not to take any chances. 

The next several hours pass in relative silence, despite Ray’s promise, but the LT doesn’t remind him that he can talk all he wants. Which is completely okay with Ray. He even gets to doze in and out for a little while, which is nice. He hardly ever gets to sleep during the weekend, so this is a treat. Ray’s still in the same place on the couch, slouched down a little more comfortably, when someone knocks on the door. The LT calls for them to enter without ever looking away from whatever he’s working on, and Ray watches in interest as the door swings open. 

“Walter! What’s with the bags? Oh shit, homes, are you leaving me?” Walt raises a brow at him before looking over towards the LT’s desk, and Ray eyes the duffel slung over his shoulder and the smaller bag hanging from one wrist. 

“Brad asked me to drop these off for Ray.” It’s a statement, but Walt’s simple declaration rises in pitch at the end like he’s asking a question. Ray’s got a few questions of his own. Some of them are pressing. Others are a bit distracted, like did Walt fold his clothes or just stuff them into the duffel?

“Do you think this job is going to last that long, sir?” Ray asks and inclines his head towards Walt. If Walt packed him a bag under Brad’s orders, then that means Brad believes this is going to take more than a night. Possibly more than a couple of nights. 

“It’s a possibility.” Shit. In just a few short hours, Ray had gotten used to seeing the LT sitting relaxed in his office chair. Now he looks tense and kinda like he wants to punch something. Or someone. Probably whoever wants to kill him. Oh! Or maybe he wants to punch Godfather for making him have a babysitter. 

“However long it takes, sir.” Ray pauses there to smile at the LT, and he’s happy to note that the rigid line of his shoulders eases just a bit. Then Ray turns his smile on Walt, who’s looking down at him in complete confusion. “Walt, I’m gonna be out of the house for a bit. Thanks for the care packages.”

“Thank you, Hasser,” the LT says and then turns back to his computer. Walt nods at that and steps farther into the room, and he carefully places the bags on the couch next to Ray. 

“Does this mean I have to drive the jeep back to the house?” Walt asks him. Huh, Ray didn’t think about that. He’s never been someone’s bodyguard before, but he’s pretty sure they’re not supposed to take separate vehicles. 

“I’m assuming you have your own vehicle, sir?” Ray looks over at the desk, but the LT doesn’t look over at him. 

“I do, Person.”

“Yeah, Walt, take care of my jeep. You’ve got the spare key, right?” Walt pats his pockets before pulling out his set of keys, and he quickly looks them over before nodding. 

“I got it. If you need anything else, just text me and I’ll bring it here.” Ray nods and grins up at Walt, who was looking worried but then returns the smile when Ray just keeps staring up at him. “See you when you get home, asshole.”

“Enjoy the privacy while it lasts!” Ray calls out as Walt leaves the office. He can just picture Walt rolling his eyes as the door closes, and Ray relaxes back against the couch. It’s late, or early depending on how you look at it, so the club is probably closing up. There is one perk to this bodyguard thing. It gets him off cleanup duty. 

“You live together?” Ray rolls his head against the couch as he looks at the side of the room, but the LT is still staring intently at his computer screen. That’s cool. It’s easier to talk without the officer staring at him. 

“Yes, sir. Walt’s the best kind of roommate. He can actually cook, and he does the laundry.” They’ve been living together for a little less than a year, but Ray’s never regretted asking Walt to move in. As far as roommates go, he’s kinda perfect. Quiet, clean, and helpful. It also helps that they’re both in the same gang, so neither of them bat an eye at weird injuries or the fact that there’s a special basket in the bathroom for bloody clothes. 

“It sounds like you got lucky.” Lucky…yeah, that was one way of putting it. He only asked Walt to move in after Macy left, but Ray’s over that now. So, yeah, maybe he is lucky. 

“Yeah, and all Walt gets out of the arrangement is free transportation and full access to my many ramblings. I think it’s a fair deal.” Ray’s still grinning when he feels the back of his neck go tight and tingly, and he raises his head off the couch cushion as he opens his eyes. (He doesn’t even remember relaxing back and closing his eyes. That’s not good. He needs to focus more.) The LT is looking right at him, staring, and one corner of his lips is tipped up into a smile. It’s a nice smile, not an angry one, and Ray quickly goes over what he just said. Nothing inappropriate…oh. He left something out. So he meets the LT’s eyes and then adds, “Sir.”

“I’m almost done and then we can head out.” Ray nods to show that he understands instead of saying anything, and his eyes close as the LT turns back to his work. This is going to be a weird job. Does he have to stay awake while the LT sleeps? Brad never gave him any kind of Bodyguard Handbook, and he has a feeling that he shouldn’t trust movie logic. He is not going to be Kevin Costner. 

An hour and a half later, the LT finally moves his chair back and stands up. Ray rubs his fingers against his eyes before getting to his feet, and he carefully picks up his bags and moves them so that he can keep his hands free. He’s not sure if whoever is after the LT is stupid enough to jump him outside of his own club, but Ray’s not going to underestimate anyone’s stupidity. Whoever it is let others know they were going after the LT, so they’re not that bright. So Ray’s not going to take any chances and is definitely going to keep his hands free, just in case. 

It’s kinda eerie to walk through the club when it’s completely empty, but they’re quick to walk through the main part of the nightclub and then out through the back exit that leads to the employee section of the parking lot. There’s only two vehicles left, a dark car and an old blue truck, and Ray’s putting money on the car belonging to the LT. The truck probably belongs to whatever sad sack got stuck with the daytime duty of watching over the club. This current job might be a little out of Ray’s wheelhouse, but it beats those kinds of jobs. 

“Heading home, sir?” Ray asks as they walk towards the car. 

“Unless there’s somewhere else you need to go,” the LT says easily. He sounds far too relaxed for someone who spent a Friday night behind a desk working.

“No, sir, I’m good.” Sliding into the passenger seat feels somehow…wrong. Ray’s usually the one driving, no matter who he’s with or what they’re on, so sitting in the passenger seat is a little surreal. He’s not sure if he likes it. Even though the LT looks perfectly at ease behind the wheel, and he hasn’t done anything to make Ray think he’s a bad driver. Yet. It’s only been a couple of minutes since they left the parking lot. 

“Person.”

“Sir,” Ray says after a stretch of silence. 

“You don’t have to keep calling me sir.” It’s not a command, not really, but it feels like more than a simple suggestion. 

“Like for the duration of this mission?” He can’t picture not ever calling the LT sir again. Godfather would probably have a heart attack. 

“Whenever we’re not around others.” So, when they were alone? That doesn’t sound right. “We’re stuck with each other, Person. Maybe just for a day or two, maybe longer. However long it lasts, I don’t want you calling me sir at the end of every sentence.”

“So what do I call you?” They’re stopped at a red light, so the LT turns just enough to look at him and raise a brow. 

“My name?”

“So…LT?” The LT’s face evens out, which makes it even funnier when he rolls his eyes and then turns back to continue driving. 

“Nate. My name is Nate, Person.”

“And my name is Ray, not Person.” It just kind of slips out, and Ray resists the urge to facepalm. He squashes the impulse and then continues on. “And I’m not calling you that, LT.”

“Then I’m going to continue to call you Person.” Ray gasps as loudly and dramatically as possible, and he watches the LT’s cheek twitch as he fights down a smile. 

“That’s just low, sir. Oops. Meant to say LT. I’ll work on it,” Ray rambles out. 

“You do that, Person.” The LT is still halfway smiling, and Ray feels better about his assignment. Yeah, playing guard duty isn’t ever going to be a favorite of his, but it could be worse. At least the LT is relaxed and doesn’t mind a little joking around. Ray’s sure that some of the other officers wouldn’t be as laidback in this situation. 

The rest of the ride is spent in a comfortable silence, and Ray’s a little disappointed when they pull up in front of a normal looking house. It’s even just a one-story! It doesn’t look much bigger than Ray’s own house actually. The only real difference is that this house has a newer coat of paint, and the neighborhood is a little cleaner looking than Ray’s. The LT pulls his car into the garage, and they stay in the same position until the garage door closes. Then they get out at the same time, and Ray hangs back so the LT can unlock the door in the garage that leads inside the house. 

“Nice place,” Ray says after they step into the kitchen. The kitchen is clean, tidy, and there’s a small wooden table tucked into a corner. 

“Go ahead and familiarize yourself,” the LT instructs and then starts walking farther into the house. 

“Is that what I’m supposed to do? Because this is my first time as a bodyguard.” The LT pauses just outside of the kitchen before turning completely around to face Ray, and Ray keeps his face perfectly blank. “Brad forgot to mention that part, didn’t he?”

“He assured me you were capable.” The LT looks like someone just smacked him though, so Ray’s guessing that he thought this was something that Ray had at least done once before. 

“Capable? Yes, sir. Experienced? Not so much.”

“Don’t sir me.” It sounds like the LT is speaking on autopilot, and Ray tries not to smile as the other man slowly shakes his head. Whatever he was previously thinking, he’s obviously giving up on it. “Get the layout of the house, know where everything is, and put your bags down in the guest room. You can sleep in the guest room, it’s right next to my room so you’ll be able to hear if there’s anything wrong. Any questions, Person?”

“None at the moment, LT.” His eyes narrow for a moment, or maybe he’s just squinting at the stupidity of this. Why’d Brad pick him? Don’t they have any soldiers that have actually worked a job as a bodyguard before?

“Get some rest and maybe this will turn out to be a bizarre dream,” the LT says as he turns back around to leave. 

“That kinda talk isn’t good for morale!” Ray only raises his voice enough for it to carry, and it actually sounds like the LT laughs quietly before the sound disappears completely. 

Alright, it’s time to case the place. Because that’s basically what he’s going to be doing. He needs to know the layout of the house, where everything is, and he needs to be able to find his way around in a hurry. Possibly in the dark. Just in case someone takes a shot at the LT. Shit, this is not the kind of place where he wants to have a shootout. It’s too nice and clean. He’ll feel guilty about messing the place up, and he can’t think that way while trying to kill motherfuckers. This is going to be the longest job of his life, or it’s going to get him killed. Either one is a possibility at this point. 

So Ray cases the place and then passes out in the guest room.

**.xXx.**

It doesn’t feel like any time has passed at all when Ray suddenly jerks into consciousness, and he holds himself still as he listens for whatever woke him up. A moment later he hears movement followed by the sound of running water, and he can tell it’s coming from the kitchen. He squints down at his watch as he sits up, and it’s only nine in the morning. They got to the LT’s house at around four, so he’s had five hours of sleep. That’s pretty good, and it’s even more than he usually gets while working. So he doesn’t complain as he leaves the blankets and stands up, and he shuffles over towards the open doorway while scratching absently at the back of his head.

“Mornin’, LT,” he drawls as he steps out of the living room and into the kitchen.

“Not a bizarre dream then.” Ray forces his eyes to open, so that he’s not stumbling along blindly, and he freezes. The LT he saw last night looked like any average office worker. Black slacks, white button-up, and even a suit jacket! How’s Ray supposed to believe that the guy from last night and the guy cracking eggs over the stove is the same guy?

“Sorry to disappoint,” Ray manages to get out. The LT is shirtless, which is a bad idea while cooking, and wearing a pair of gray basketball shorts. Wait, he’s also wearing running shoes. “Please tell me you didn’t leave the house. Brad will never let me live it down if you left the house without me even noticing.”

“Calm down, Person, I haven’t left yet. Did you bring any running shoes?” The LT is still cooking, and Ray looks down at his bare feet. 

“All I’ve got are my boots. I didn’t realize I was gonna have to go running recreationally.” Ray moves so that he’s leaning up against the counter next to the stove, and he definitely does not feel rumpled in his baggy sweatpants and bleach stained tee shirt. They’re pajamas. He’s not supposed to look put together while wearing his pajamas. 

“You can always stay behind.” Ray just huffs at that, and his new position means that the LT can look over at him when he smiles. “Worth a shot. What size shoes do you wear?”

“Really? You’re asking for my shoe size without buying me dinner first? I didn’t think you were that kind of guy, LT.” _Fuck_. Ray clearly isn’t awake enough to have a conversation with his Boss. Capital B. 

“What about breakfast? How do you like your toast?” No, it’s apparently all cool, because the LT is still smiling and joking around with him. Ray’s sure, without a doubt, that another officer would chew him out for sexual harassment after his little comment. 

“Lightly toasted with grape jelly, and I like my eggs scrambled.” When the LT looks over at him, Ray pointedly looks down at the stove. 

“You haven’t earned the eggs yet.” Okay, so the LT has jokes. Good to know. Ray crosses his arms as he relaxes against the counter, and he looks down the length of his body and at his bare wiggling toes. 

“Size nine.” The LT makes a quiet sound, like he’s considering the new information, and Ray clicks his tongue before deciding _fuck-it_. He’s got a feeling that the LT will let him know if he goes too far. “And I can serenade you. Little bit of music to start the day off right. I’ll even take requests.”

“Sold, and I think I might have an old pair of shoes that’ll fit.” Ray groans as his head falls back, and he uncrosses his arms so that he can slump a little and let his elbows brace against the counter to hold him up. 

“That’s great, LT, really. Because there’s nothing better than a good morning run.” The LT is still smiling as he adds in some more eggs to start scrambling, and Ray doesn’t like that smile. Not one bit. “It is a leisurely run, right? Not some kind of crazy marathon around the city?”

“No, nothing like that.” His tone is too easy. It’s suspicious. “Not around the city. It’s Saturday, so we can take it easy. Only five miles or so.”

“Only five miles or so? I can’t wait to tell the others that our LT is actually a sadist.” At that, the LT lets his head hang back a little and really starts to laugh. Not that quiet laugh that Ray possibly imagined, but a real honest-to-God laugh that makes the LT’s shoulders shake so much that he has to stop scrambling the eggs for a moment. 

“You ran more than that during your training, Person. Now reach into that cabinet over your head and grab me another plate.” Ray rolls his eyes where the LT can see and then does exactly as instructed. He keeps one elbow braced on the counter as he reaches up and opens the cabinet door, and he grabs one plate and holds it out to the LT as the cabinet door bangs shut. 

“What’s it gonna take to make you stop calling me Person? No one calls me that.” Ray tries to keep the groan out of his voice, but he’s guessing by the smile on the LT’s face that he doesn’t succeed. 

“I’ll use your first name if you use mine,” the LT says as he starts dividing the eggs between two plates. 

“That’s not fair. I’m way lower on the totem pole than you, so you can get away with using first names. If you do it, it shows that you’re a cool officer. If I do it, it’s disrespectful.” The LT hums as he walks the plates over to the kitchen table in the corner of the room, and Ray steels himself for the LT to turn around. 

“Isn’t it more disrespectful to continue to refuse a simple request?” Ray stays in the same position as the LT walks in front of him and then over to where a loaf of bread is sitting in front of a toaster, and Ray does his best not to let his eyes wander. It’s just…he’d expected the LT to be a lean guy. Which he is, but he’s also…well, it’s clear that the guy exercises. Regularly. Ray just hadn’t been expecting _that_ body to be under the LT’s suit. It’s fucking with his head a little. 

“A true gentleman would accept the refusal with grace.” The LT turns so that he’s facing Ray while the bread becomes toast, and Ray makes sure that his direct line of sight never dips below the LT’s collarbones. It’s more of a struggle than he’s comfortable with. 

“If we were discussing a different matter, then of course. I don’t think asking you to use my first name is asking too much. What if we’re stuck together for a week? Or even longer?” Longer than a week? Ray doesn’t even want to think about that. 

“Are you doubting whoever has been tasked with finding the threat?” If it’s Brad, then the LT shouldn’t worry. Brad’s awesome at hunting people down and then shooting them. Seriously. It’s at the top of his resume. 

“I would never doubt Godfather’s decision, but the fact remains that this arrangement could last for a while. Are you going to call me LT the entire time?” The toast pops up, and Ray watches as the LT carefully grabs the four slices of toasted bread and then walks over to distribute them between the two plates on the kitchen table. 

“Not the entire time. I’ll still call you sir in front of everyone else,” Ray says and grins as the LT opens the fridge. 

“Brad didn’t mention that you were stubborn,” the LT says and then reaches inside the fridge.

“I’m not stubborn. I’m respectful of my superiors.” That word has never felt right, and Ray can see the LT shaking his head as he juggles two bottles of water and a jar of jelly. 

“I’m not your superior, Person. We’re in this together, right?” The LT is putting the bottles on the kitchen table, so Ray looks at the spot between his shoulder blades as he pushes off from the counter. 

“I don’t know about all that. If you die, I die. If I die, I think you’ll be safe. They’ll just send in someone else, and maybe he’ll call you by your first name.” Ray smiles again as the LT walks towards him, and he’s not expecting the LT to stop right in front of him. 

“No one’s going to die, Person.” Huh, he didn’t realize that the LT is taller than him. He’s not on Brad’s level, most people aren’t, but Ray still has to lift his chin and tilt his head back a little to meet the LT’s eyes. 

“Don’t say that, LT. Someone’s gotta die for this to be over,” Ray points out. One side of the LT’s lips quirks up into a half-smile, and Ray holds himself completely still as the LT reaches out. He opens the drawer next to Ray’s left hip and scoops out a couple of forks, and Ray’s still grinning when the LT pulls back. 

“We’re not going to die, Person.” Damn it. Why can’t the LT just use his first name like everyone else? Even Brad has always just called him _Ray_. 

“I like that optimism, LT. You keep that up and this’ll be over in no time, and then we won’t have to worry about proper forms of respect.” He can’t believe that he’s arguing for the side of proper respect. It seems inherently wrong. Where’s Brad when he needs to be knocked down a peg or two?

“Come eat some breakfast, Person.” Ray’s looking at the center of the LT’s back again as the officer walks away, and he finds himself trailing along behind him. 

“You’re doing that on purpose, right? Trying to annoy me into insubordination?” Sweet fuck, if he keeps this up he’s going to get shot or something. 

“Don’t know what you mean, Person. Eat your eggs before they get cold.” Ray drops into his seat after the LT is already sitting, and he grabs his water bottle to take a quick drink before he starts eating. He watches the LT’s face as he eats, chews slowly while the LT looks down at the open book next to his plate, and tries to picture himself using the LT’s first name. He just can’t see it. “And, Person?”

“Hmm?” He can’t say anything else because he’s been shoveling eggs into his mouth, and the LT glances over at him before speaking up again. 

“You’re slacking in your serenading duties.” Ray’s mouth drops open, and he’s glad that he remembered to swallow so that half-eaten eggs don’t spill out. The LT is fucking with him! He’s really fucking with him! 

“Sorry about that. Won’t happen again.” He quickly scarfs down the rest of his eggs and his jelly-smeared toast before the LT is even halfway done, and he leans back in his chair as he looks up at the ceiling. What’s he supposed to sing?

_“Her name is Noelle. I have a dream about her. She rings my bell. I got gym class in half an hour.”_

Ray sings the entire song while the LT finishes up, and he might not have even made it that far if the LT hadn’t paused eating to sing the chorus along with him. Which is a little surprising, but it’s overshadowed by the fact that the LT has a good singing voice. Ray’s decent, he can carry a tune if he actually wants to, but the LT is good without trying at all. It’s almost unfair. It doesn’t stop Ray from singing though, and the LT is smiling as he tells Ray to get ready for their run. 

Of course, getting ready to Ray just means changing and waiting for the LT to bring him some shoes. The old sweatpants are replaced with a pair of shorts that are cutoff sweatpants, and he exchanges the old tee shirt for a black tank that he finds stuffed in the corner of his duffel. There’s no point in washing up before the run, because he knows he’ll have to shower after the run. So after changing he falls back against the bed and waits on the LT with the door wide open, because it’s not like Ray’s in a rush to start running. He hates going for a run. Running for his life is one thing. That’s running with purpose. Going for a run in the morning doesn’t have a purpose. 

“You’re slacking again, Person.” Ray hears the voice right before something lands solidly on his chest, and he flails a little before grabbing the shoes and holding them up. 

“Guess that means there’s no getting out of this,” Ray groans and lifts one foot in the air. He’s still sprawled out on the bed on his back, because he’s going to be as lazy as possible while he still can. 

“That’s a negative, Person. Unless you want to stay behind.” Ray lifts his head up after tugging on the first shoe, and he narrows his eyes as much as he can while lying in an undignified position. 

“I’m a professional, sir. Can’t have you just running off without your ordered protection. What kind of bodyguard would I be if I let you run off and get shot? Brad would use my mangled corpse as a lesson in stupidity for the new guys. I don’t want to be a part of one of Bradley’s lectures.” Ray talks while tying the first shoe, and he tugs on the second one after he finishes rambling. 

“Brad doesn’t already use you as an example to the new guys?” Ray’s tying the second shoe, so he can’t look over to see if the LT is smiling. His tone of voice suggests that he is though. 

“Only as an example of my awesome professionalism.” Now that he’s thinking about it, he’s not sure if Brad mentions him at all when he’s scaring new guys. Ray will have to ask him, because now he’s curious. 

“On your feet, Person. We’re behind schedule.” Ray pops up into a sitting position while looking at the open doorway, and he’s a little relieved to see that the LT is wearing a tee shirt now. That’s good, because it’s too early for Ray to stop someone from mauling him. Shooting him? Sure, Ray can break that shit up. Some lust-crazed jogger tackling him? The LT is on his own. 

“There’s a schedule?!” He can hear the LT laughing as he turns around and starts walking through the house, and Ray double checks that both shoes are tied adequately before hurrying after him.

**.xXx.**

“Fucking sadist,” Ray groans and resists the urge to drop down in the LT’s driveway.

“What was that, Person?” The LT actually pauses as he asks the question and looks over his shoulder, and Ray looks down at the door knob. Yep, the LT stopped in the middle of unlocking the front door. The keys are dangling from the lock. All he has to do is turn the keys and then they can be inside, where Ray can maybe sit down for a minute before crawling into a shower. 

“Sorry, fucking sadist, sir.” Ray carefully pronounces each word without a single trace of exhaustion, and it looks like the LT’s eyes brighten a little as he smiles. Then the LT is turning around and opening his door so that they can get inside. That’s awesome, because just standing around outside is making him paranoid. 

“You didn’t like the run?” the LT asks as he locks the door.

“You said five miles.” The LT nods, and Ray rolls his eyes before continuing. “Five miles there and five miles back means a ten mile run. Not five. Do you do this every day?”

“Just most days.” _Most_ days. Does that mean Ray is going to have do this again tomorrow morning? He’s not sure if all this running is good for his health. 

“LT?” The other man had been heading towards the bedrooms, but he stops and turns around to look at where Ray is standing in the middle of the living room. 

“What is it, Person?” The LT’s face is too blank, so Ray knows that he’s trying not to smile. He thinks that he can get Ray to break, but Ray’s not going to break. Not this easily anyway. 

“You should invest in a treadmill.” The LT’s mask breaks as he smiles, wide and entirely too cheerful considering they just ran ten miles, and Ray resists the urge to curl up on the floor and take a nap. 

“I’ll consider it, Person. Go get washed up.” Ray waits until the LT’s back is turned to snap off a salute and then he follows behind the LT until he reaches the guest room. Maybe he’ll be able to take a quick nap in the shower. He has a feeling that he’ll need the extra rest.

**.xXx.**

The rest of his first day on the job is kinda quiet. After they’re both clean, the LT tells him that he’s got work to do and then spends the next several hours talking to people on his phone while pacing throughout the entire house. Ray sits on the couch in the living room to clean the guns that Walt brought him, but he always stops cleaning long enough to watch the LT walk through the living room as he quietly yells at the person on the phone. The LT never even raises his voice, but he’s still yelling at someone. It’s kind of amusing to watch, since the LT is wearing a pair of dark sweatpants and a white tee shirt. He should wear his suit while chewing people out, not his pajamas.

After the sun goes down, the LT changes into a suit nearly identical to the one from the night before and then tosses his car keys to Ray. So Ray drives them to the nightclub before the place really opens, and they go straight down to the LT’s office. Ray stretches out on the couch with his head pillowed on the arm and his legs stretched out to the other side of the couch, and the LT turns on his computer and gets to work. The office is quiet except for the quiet clicking coming from the LT’s keyboard, and Ray hums a little to break up the silence.

“Sleeping on the job already, Ray?” Brad’s a sneaky motherfucker, Ray will give him that. He didn’t even hear the LT’s door open, but that’s definitely Brad standing in the middle of the office.

“He made me run recreationally this morning,” Ray says in way of explanation. Brad looks over at the LT, who still hasn’t looked away from his computer. He’s gonna fuck up his eyesight if he isn’t careful. 

“You took Ray running with you?” Brad asks him. 

“I couldn’t exactly leave my bodyguard behind, could I?” the LT asks.

“LT’s got a point, Brad. I’m a _body_ guard. I guard the body, even if he does force me into running ten miles.” Brad looks grudgingly impressed, probably because he’s remembering how much Ray used to bitch when they had to run during his training. 

“You’re still calling him LT?” Ray hadn’t been expecting that question, and he raises a brow at Brad. “He made me call him Nate about an hour after working with him. You’ve been with him for twenty-four hours.”

“Person is stubborn,” the LT explains. Ray grins when Brad looks down at him, because now he’s really proud of his resolve. Brad broke after an hour?

“Try not to get on Nate’s nerves too much, Ray.” Ray salutes but doesn’t say anything, and Brad finally starts talking about important shit. None of it pertains to Ray’s current job, so he mostly tunes out as Brad reports to the LT. It only lasts for around ten minutes and then Brad is looking down at Ray again. 

“There a reason you’re giving me that creepy empty eyed stare?” Ray asks after a moment of silence. Brad grins suddenly, and that is the smile of a predator. 

“Are you taking this seriously, Ray?” Ray glances over at where the LT is ignoring them, watches as he reaches up to scratch absently at his cheek, and then looks at where Brad is looming over him.

“Of course I am. No one’s going to kill the LT on my watch,” Ray promises. It’s not just because the LT is his Boss either. Ray can’t say this for every person in the gang, but the LT is a good guy.

“Keep your eyes open,” are Brad’s parting words. Ray waits until the door is closed behind him before looking over at the LT, who is surprisingly looking back at him. 

“He’s such a micromanager. You’re not worried, are you?” The LT smiles a little, and he looks tired. Maybe Ray can talk him out of running in the morning so that he can get some more sleep. 

“Not at all, Person.” That’s just low. Ray’s just trying to bond, and the LT is still fucking with him.

“That’s the spirit, LT.” He catches a brief look at the way the LT’s eyes narrow before the other man turns back to his computer, and Ray bites down on his smile. Maybe the LT broke Brad in an hour, but he won’t break Ray that easily.

**.xXx.**

“You’re still in your pajamas.” It’s early, barely past eight, and Ray slumps against the kitchen counter as the LT looks at him from over his shoulder.

“Astute observational skills, Person. S’mores or blueberry?” The cabinet in front of the LT is open, and Ray can see various boxes in front of him. Mmm, poptarts for breakfast. 

“S’mores,” Ray answers first. He waits until the LT turns back around to grab the right box before continuing. “Does that mean we’re not running today?”

“Not today.” Ray catches the foil packet that’s tossed to him, and he quickly opens it to get at the poptarts. They had sandwiches for dinner the night before after Ray asked if they were ever going to eat again, and the LT had looked surprised so he’s guessing that their Boss routinely forgets to eat. 

“We got any other plans for today?” Ray accepts the water bottle that the LT holds out to him, and he watches as the LT leans against the counter across from him as he finally starts eating his own poptarts. 

“No, I thought I’d just stay in today.” That sounds good to Ray. It definitely makes his job a little easier. 

“Got any plans for tonight?” The LT looks confused, probably because it’s Sunday which means that the club is closed, and Ray arches a brow while keeping the rest of his expression blank. “It’s Valentine’s Day. If you had plans, don’t cancel them because of this whole bodyguard thing. I can totally be discreet.”

“While I don’t doubt that, I don’t have any plans. No one to make any plans with,” the LT says for extra clarification. Well, that’s just not even right. The LT is far too attractive to be single. 

“No one to bring you flowers and chocolate, sir?” Yeah, Ray definitely needs to work on his brain to mouth filter. Instead of getting angry though, the LT just smiles and shakes his head. 

“No flowers or chocolate for me today. And you, Person?” Ray hadn’t been expecting that question, and he absently shakes his head in the negative. He’s hooked up with people, sure, but he hasn’t dated anyone since Macy left. Hasn’t really felt the urge to do so. 

“Guess that means we’ll have to buy our own flowers and chocolate,” Ray says and then takes an exaggerated bite out of his poptart. It gets a smile out of the LT, so almost choking on the poptart is worth it. 

“I guess so,” the LT says quietly and then resumes eating. Ray has a feeling that it’s going to be a quiet day, but he’s okay with that.

**2016 February 27**

“All I’m saying is that this is kind of ridiculous,” Ray says and then turns right. He’s glad that Nate has let him have full driving privileges, because it’s easier to fuck with his Boss when he has to keep his eyes forward and focus on driving.

“It’s a necessity, Person.” Ray pulls into the parking lot and finds a spot, and he looks over at Nate after the car is turned off. 

“Don’t you have minions to do this for you, LT?” He might be _Nate_ in Ray’s head now, but Ray will be damned if he says that name out loud. He hasn’t lasted this long just to break now. 

“I thought that’s why you were here.” Ray makes a sound of shock, which just makes Nate laugh as he opens the passenger door and climbs out. Ray hurries after him and locks the car before stuffing the keys into his pocket, and he stops next to Nate behind the car. They stay standing there, just looking up at the building for a minute, before Ray turns his head to look at Nate. 

“We can always retreat,” Ray offers. The words feel wrong, because Ray was taught to never retreat before ever even joining a gang, and Nate actually bristles next to him. 

“We’re out of eggs and poptarts.” That’s a very good point. They’re out of breakfast foods, which isn’t that surprising since they’ve both been eating breakfast at Nate’s house for two weeks now. They were bound to run out eventually. 

“Fine, but if we’re doing this then I’m cooking dinner tonight.” Nate starts to say something, Ray can see his jaw flexing as he gathers his thoughts, and Ray plows on before Nate can argue with him. “I am not eating another deli sandwich for dinner, and neither are you.”

“Then let’s go grocery shopping,” Nate declares and starts walking. Ray eyes the building before following after Nate, and his eyes dart around the grocery store as Nate grabs a cart for them. Ray can’t actually remember the last time he went full-out grocery shopping. Walt does most of their shopping, and Ray only picks up little things in between Walt’s real shopping trips. 

It goes about the way that Ray expected. Nate pushes the cart and tells Ray what to get, and Ray judges everything that Nate decides on. It’s been a long two weeks, but it’s not Ray’s worse job ever. The two of them have fallen into a routine, of sorts. Most mornings they go running, despite Ray’s protests, and then they spend the rest of the day at Nate’s house. At night they go to Bravo, where Nate works and Ray gets to be lazy. It’s a little weird to spend his every waking moment with the same person for over two weeks, but Nate is surprisingly laidback for an officer. So it could definitely be worse. 

“Your cooking won’t kill me, will it?” Nate asks as Ray picks up a thing of tortillas. Dinner for them is usually takeout, which Ray hadn’t expected from Nate, and he can’t believe he’s even thinking this but he’s actually tired of takeout. 

“You doubtin’ me, sir?” The older lady at the end of the aisle gives them a scandalized look, so Ray winks at her and then bites the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing when she flees the aisle. 

“You’re a menace to society, Person,” Nate sighs. He sounds almost fond in his exasperation, and Ray’s learned over the years that he tends to have that effect on people. Brad makes a sigh just like that one, full of fond exasperation. 

“I’m a menace to society that knows how to cook.”

The rest of the shopping is done quickly and without incident, and it’s not long at all before they’re breezing through the checkout line and then loading the groceries into the trunk. Truth be told, the whole experience wasn’t that traumatizing. Ray’s not looking to repeat it though. Nate puts the cart with the others, because he’s a boy scout like that, while Ray leans against the car and keeps an eye on him. So far no one has made a move on the LT, but that doesn’t mean that Ray’s going to drop his guard. Better safe than sorry. Or, in his case, better safe than dead. 

After they get back to Nate’s house and unload the groceries, everything goes back to normal. Nate gives commands over the phone while pacing throughout the house, and Ray plays games on his phone while keeping one eye on Nate’s restless pacing. Once it’s late enough, Nate changes into one of his suits and then Ray drives them out to Bravo. Since it’s a Saturday night, he knows that Bravo will be packed. They get to the club so early that it always seems dead though. Not that it matters, because it’s always quiet in Nate’s office. 

So Ray sprawls out on the couch while Nate gets to work, and he tries to pinpoint when his Boss switched from the LT to Nate. (In his mind at least.) He thinks it was on their fourth morning run. There wasn’t anything special about it. It’d just been another morning of Nate running easily while Ray cursed the universe and tried to keep pace with him, but he remembers Nate laughing at some of his more colorful curses. Then Nate had really started to laugh as Ray started singing Avril Lavigne songs as loudly as he could, and something had just…settled. Any other officer would have demanded that Ray follow along silently, but Nate’s always encouraging him to speak up. 

Nate is laidback and easy to talk to, which isn’t good considering that Ray could be drowning and still want to talk. He’s been able to keep himself somewhat in check, but Nate doesn’t make it easy. He laughs too easily at Ray’s slip-ups and horrible jokes, but Ray knows that there’s more to Nate. He’s heard him on the phone, giving orders in a quiet voice with a tone that doesn’t leave any room for arguments. Most men like to yell to make sure that they’re heard, but not Nate. There’s plenty of command in Nate’s quiet words, and he actually talks even quieter when he’s pissed off. And Ray has had several opportunities to see Nate pissed off over the last two weeks. He paces even slower when he’s angry. 

The big Boss could use a vacation. He works too much. Every day, he spends hours on the phone to make sure that everyone is doing what they’re supposed to and then he spends his nights getting caught up on paperwork and other bureaucratic bullshit. Nate does it all without even a little bit of complaining, but Ray can tell that he’s stressed. Sometimes he looks so tense that it makes Ray hurt a little, and dark smudges are starting to appear under his eyes. He’s also got a feeling that Nate would forget to eat anything after breakfast if Ray didn’t remind him that people need food to live. So maybe Nate should take a vacation when all of this is over. 

The night passes as Ray mentally drafts a letter to Godfather asking for Nate’s vacation time, and he sluggishly follows after Nate through the dead nightclub. He doesn’t really miss being a bartender, but it’s still weird to see the nightclub so empty and quiet. The parking lot is dark and just as empty when they get outside, and Ray pulls Nate’s keys out of his pocket to unlock the doors. He hears Nate sigh after he sits down, and he quickly slides behind the wheel and gets the car started. They’re both silent as they pull out of the parking lot and start towards Nate’s house, but it’s not an uncomfortable silence. 

“Penny for your thoughts, sir?” Nate’s lips twitch as he fights down a smile, and Ray keeps a close watch on him from the corner of his eye as he continues to drive. 

“Just thinking about the dinner you promised me, Person.” Oh, Ray hasn’t forgotten about that. He’s actually looking forward to cooking, because it means that he’s going to get to eat something real instead of something out of a carton. He’s got a feeling that Nate needs some fresh cooked food too. Yeah, they eat decent breakfasts, but dinner is important too. 

Before Ray can say anything though, a giant black SVU pulls out in front of them. Ray has to slam on the brakes to keep from running into the side of the SVU, and he quickly checks the rearview mirror. There’s another SVU behind them, blocking them in, and he looks over at Nate. Even though these are the guys that are out to kill Nate, he looks normal enough. A little annoyed, maybe, but that’s it. Nate sighs quietly as dudes start pouring out of the SVU, and Ray puts the car in park before reaching for the gun holstered on his side. 

“You ready for this?” Ray asks as they’re slowly surrounded. He’s not sure where Nate pulled his gun from, but Ray’s glad he’s not the only prepared for this. Nate hums a little in answer, and Ray can tell that he’s memorizing where all the men are as his eyes move around them. 

“And I was looking forward to dinner too,” Nate says almost regretfully. Ray wants to tell him that he’s still cooking dinner when this is over, because he’s not about to let either of them die. He doesn’t get that chance though, because Nate starts giving orders.

Ray knew that Nate had to be good, he couldn’t be a lieutenant without being good, but he actually feels something that feels like awe as Nate expertly directs them. It seems like it only takes seconds for them to get out of the car, amid heavy gunfire, and retreat to safety behind a low wall behind a closed-for-the-night building. (Ray thinks it might be some kind of realtor’s office, but he didn’t get a good look before they were ducking behind the building.) Guys keep coming towards them, but Nate doesn’t have any problem with picking them off. It’s almost laughable how easy Nate dispatches the men sent to kill him. Ray hasn’t fired a shot since they got around the building and hunkered down. 

“I’m starting to feel unneeded.” Nate laughs and then takes another shot, and Ray peeks over the wall to see another body lying motionless on the ground. “Seriously, why’d they give you a bodyguard when you’re such a badass?”

Two more shots, two more bodies. There can’t be that many people left, but it’s not like Ray took a headcount before they retreated. Nate looks over at him and raises a brow, but that cool look isn’t fooling Ray. Because Nate’s smiling a little too, even as he looks away just long enough to fire off another shot. He’s already reloaded once, so there really can’t be that many dudes left. All of this should be over pretty soon. 

“Only two left,” Nate says and pulls his phone out of his pocket. So, that means that Nate did manage to do a headcount sometime before they started running. That’s just unfair. Nate starts to call someone and brings the phone up to his ear as he shoots once. Only one left now. 

“Definitely unneeded. Feel better now that you’ve let off some steam, sir?” Nate’s smile is too bright for the situation that they’re currently in, but Ray doesn’t call him out on it. Instead he just rolls his eyes and turns so that he can put his back to the wall. It’s probably not wise to look away from where people have been shooting at them, but Nate’s keeping a watchful eye out. He trusts Nate to keep them both alive, even though he’s currently on the phone and telling the other person their location. 

“I’m not the one who made the plan to attack us in the middle of the street, Poke,” Nate is saying as Ray starts to tap his feet. So he’s talking to their guy in the police force, Homicide Detective Tony Espera. Or Poke to the people who know him. Poke and Brad are actually friends, and Ray’s met him several times over the years. He likes Poke, even though the detective takes every opportunity to tell Ray why the White Man is like a plague. (Ray kind of agrees with him, but he’d never tell Poke that.)

“Don’t forget to tell him that you’re the one that dropped all those fools,” Ray says. He laughs as Nate repeats the words for Poke and then he can hear the detective laughing. Ray’s getting ready to say something else to hurry this along, because he really is hungry, when movement catches his eye. He sits up a little straighter and squints to try to get a better look as he mutters, “What the fuck?”

“Poke will be here in ten,” Nate quietly announces as Ray’s eyes open fully. He’s just about to admit that he’s seeing things when the shadow he’d been staring at moves, and he pushes against Nate’s shoulder right before something hits the low wall. Ray’s on his knees and firing without a second thought, and the shadow falls to the ground and doesn’t move. 

“Shit, that was close,” Ray says and looks over at Nate. He’d been kneeling, but now he’s sitting on the ground and looking over at Ray with a surprised look on his face. “He didn’t get you, did he?”

“Not me,” Nate says and shakes his head. Ray looks away from Nate and at the low wall, and there’s a bullet right where Nate’s head had been. Yeah, that was definitely too close. 

“I guess we should have guessed that at least one guy would go around,” Ray muses. Still, by Nate’s count, that was the last guy. There’s nothing else for them to worry about. 

“You do realize that you’re bleeding, right?” Nate’s still looking at him while sitting on the ground, and Ray feels his brows pull together before he looks down. He raises his left hand and runs it over his torso, but he doesn’t feel anything. No holes and no blood. “Right shoulder.”

Ray looks over at his right shoulder and then goes to lift his right hand, and he can feel the sharp flare of pain. Well, shit. He grabs his collar and moves his tee shirt so he can get a good look, and he quickly uses his shirt to wipe away the blood so that he can actually see the damage. There’s a line that runs over the curve of his shoulder, but it’s not very long or deep. Probably doesn’t even need stitches. Right now, it just burns and is more of an annoyance than anything else. 

“Dammit. This is my last clean shirt too,” Ray says and looks back over at Nate. He still looks like he might be in shock, so Ray raises off his knees and gets to his feet. He offers a hand down to Nate, who takes it without looking away from Ray’s shoulder. “It’s nothing, sir. Barely even a graze.”

“You got shot, Ray.” Ha! Nate broke and said his first name! Who knew that all Ray had to do was get a little shot?

“Don’t be so dramatic, sir.” Ray steps over the low wall first, and Nate follows after him as his expression shifts into something more like exasperation. That’s an expression that Ray’s used to. 

“Don’t sir me.”

“Whatever you want, boss,” Ray says and grins over at Nate. He isn’t looking at Ray’s shoulder anymore, so they’re making progress. 

“For that, you can deal with Poke while I call Godfather.” They’re coming around the side of the building now, and Ray can see Poke’s car headed towards them. This is going to be a fun one to explain. He can already hear Poke lamenting about how he sold his soul to the white devil and is now stuck cleaning up after him. 

“I think I’m getting the better end of the deal,” Ray says honestly. He at least likes Poke. Godfather mostly gets on his nerves, but he can’t say anything to the super boss without worrying about getting a bullet in a more fatal place than the shoulder. 

Nate leans against the front of the car as he talks to Godfather on the phone, and Ray tells Poke everything that’s been going on. The threat on Nate’s life, how he’s been playing the part of Nate’s bodyguard, and about all the idiots that Nate shot down. Poke agrees with him that Nate didn’t really need a bodyguard after seeing all the lifeless bodies, and Ray smiles as Poke tells him to clear out and go get himself cleaned up. Poke’ll take care of the bodies, which means that Ray and Nate are off the hook. So Ray jogs over to where Nate is still leaning against the car, but he’s just looking down at his phone now instead of talking on it. 

“Job’s officially over, now that the threat has been eliminated,” Nate says and then looks over at him. Ray stuffs his hands in his pockets as he rocks back on his heels, and he slowly rolls the tension out of his neck as he looks up at the dark sky. The sun will be up in a couple of hours.

“That’s awesome, because I’m starving and I promised you a home cooked dinner. So how about we get out of here, get cleaned up, and then eat?” Ray asks and looks at Nate. 

“You still want to cook?” Nate’s eyes flick over to Ray’s shoulder, but Ray knows that he can’t see the blood because Ray’s tee shirt is black and doesn’t show bloodstains. 

“You made me go grocery shopping. I’m cooking.” The job is officially over, which means that Nate can refuse him and tell him to just get his stuff and go home. Nate can definitely do that, but Ray doesn’t think he will. 

“I suppose I can’t argue with that,” Nate says and smiles just a little. Nate’s been cooking him breakfast for two weeks, so Ray’s going to at least cook dinner once before he gets the boot. 

“You really can’t, so get in the car so we can get out of here.”

“You can’t drive after getting shot,” Nate protests. He’s already moving towards the passenger door though, so it’s not a good argument. Ray slides behind the wheel, happily notes that the keys are still in the ignition, and turns the ignition over after both doors are closed. 

“First off, I got grazed. Secondly, I wouldn’t drive if I didn’t think I was capable. Third, why’d you accept a bodyguard when you can shoot like that?” Ray’s already started driving, so he can’t look over and see what kind of face Nate is making. He can feel Nate’s eyes on him though.

“I still needed a bodyguard in the end.” Nate’s voice is quiet, and Ray glances at him from the corner of his eye. Okay, yeah, that was definitely a close call. Probably too close for Nate’s comfort, and Ray’s doing his best not to think about it. 

“Make sure you put that in your report. Ray Person totally saved my life, so maybe don’t send him on anymore shit jobs because he’s the best and deserves better.” Ray grins over at Nate after he says it, and he can actually see Nate relax a little as he smiles. 

“I’ll make sure that your heroic actions are noted.” Nate even sounds more relaxed, and Ray makes a cooing noise as he turns onto the street that Nate lives on. 

“You callin’ me your hero, sir?” Ray shot a couple of guys as they got out of the car and headed to safety, but Nate took down the majority of the guys sent to kill him. Ray just got the last guy.

“Don’t let it go to your head, Ray.” He doesn’t look at Nate until the car is parked in the garage, but he knows his shocked look must be hilarious because Nate immediately cracks a smile. “Job’s over. You saved my life. I think it’s time to stop with the formalities.”

“Sounds like reasonable logic,” Ray says as they get out of the car. Nate doesn’t say anything else as they walk through the house, and Ray keeps quiet for once. 

The guest room looks the same as it did when he left it earlier that night, and Ray grabs his last pair of clean sweatpants before walking into the connected bathroom. The sweatpants get tossed onto the counter, and he bends down to open the cabinet under the sink. There’s a first-aid kit at the back of the cabinet, and he carefully pulls it out and then places it next to his sweatpants. Kicking off his boots and jeans is easy, and he locks his jaw as he pulls his tee shirt off. The graze might not be that big, but it still burns and stings like a motherfucker. He uses his shirt to mop up the blood that’s run down his chest to keep from dripping all over the bathroom, and he lets the ruined tee shirt fall into the trash after starting the shower. 

As much as he wants to fall asleep in the shower, he rushes through it instead. He mostly just makes sure that he washes all of the blood off, and he quickly dries off so that he can deal with the graze before it starts bleeding again. He’d probably benefit from stitches, but he’s not in the mood to deal with Doc right now. He wants to get cleaned up, eat some good food, and then pass out for a few hours. If he’s still bleeding when he wakes up, he’ll call Doc and get himself stitched up. For now, he just cleans it out with some alcohol and then carefully tapes a bandage on. 

He’s just barely got his sweatpants pulled on when he hears Nate knocking on the bedroom door, and he’s already grinning as he opens the door. Nate’s hair is wet and he’s changed into his own pajamas, sweatpants and a faded Green Day shirt, and Ray raises a brow as he notices the other tee shirt in Nate’s hand. If pressed, Ray would say that Nate’s almost blushing as he holds the shirt out with a small smile. 

“You said you were out of clean shirts,” Nate says in explanation as Ray takes the shirt. He’s not going to complain, because he doesn’t like cooking shirtless. 

“Tomorrow’s laundry day.” Ray resists the urge to shrug, because he knows that the move will just hurt him, and he carefully maneuvers the shirt on. It’s a gray Dartmouth tee shirt, and most of Ray is afraid that it’s a real Dartmouth tee shirt and not some kind of joke. Holy shit, what if Ray’s Boss went to Dartmouth?

Nate sits at the kitchen table, reading the same book he’d been reading the last time they ate breakfast, and Ray starts cooking. Most of what Ray is doing is muscle memory. He’s not a great cook, but there’s a few things that he could cook in his sleep. Chicken quesadillas? No sweat. So most of his thoughts are centered around things other than cooking, like how Nate was just one little push away from being shot in the head. It’s not something that Ray wants to dwell on, because he knows that he would have been just as dead as Nate, but he keeps getting stuck on it. 

“How’s the shoulder?” Ray flips the quesadilla over before looking over at Nate, and he ignores the twinge of his right shoulder as he meets Nate’s eyes. 

“Told ya it was nothin’. Don’t worry your pretty little head about me.” Ray turns back to the stove as Nate laughs a little, so he’s glad that Nate’s still being laidback about everything. “Hey, grab some plates for me?”

He listens to the sound of Nate’s chair moving across the tiles, and he can’t hear Nate walking at all even as he walks directly behind Ray. He does hear the cabinet opening as Nate grabs a couple of plates out, and Nate’s helpful enough to hold the plates up as Ray distributes the quesadillas. Nate walks the plates over to the table and then turns back to get some water bottles out of the fridge, and Ray uses the time to do a little bit of cleanup. Once things are good enough for the moment, he leaves the few dishes in the sink and shuffles over to the kitchen table where Nate is already sitting. 

“You know you didn’t have to do this.” Nate’s just looking down at his food instead of eating it, and Ray slowly places his water bottle back on the table. 

“With all due respect, sir.” Ray pauses there until Nate looks up at him, and Ray rests an elbow on the table so that he can point at Nate and then down at his full plate. “Eat your fucking dinner, Nate.”

Nate laughs, loud and unrestrained for once, and Ray relaxes back in his chair as he leads by example and takes a bite of his awesome cooking. Nate follows suit, and he looks a little surprised after he takes his first bite. Ray would feel insulted, but instead he just feels a little relieved as Nate hurriedly takes another bite. They’re quiet as they eat, there’s no room for talking while they shovel food into their mouths, but it’s a good kind of silence. It’s like when Ray sits next to Brad after a job, when they’re both a little exhausted but riding the high of another job well done. When they’re both through eating, Nate puts their dirty dishes in the sink and says he’ll clean them later. 

“You can stay here tonight,” Nate says while Ray’s still sitting at the kitchen table. 

“Kind of you not to toss me out at sunrise. I knew you were a true gentleman,” Ray drawls and then forces himself to his feet. Nate’s guest bed is surprisingly comfortable, and he’s sure that Walt will thank him for not calling him this early in the morning to come pick him up. 

“Go get some rest, Ray. You’ve earned it.” Ray nods at that but doesn’t say anything else, and they part ways at the guest room. Like every other night for the past couple of weeks, Ray leaves the door open and then stumbles his way towards the bed. 

Ray’s out as soon as he’s horizontal.

**2016 April 16**

Ray knocks on the office door and adjusts his grip on the strap of his backpack, but he doesn’t have to wait long before Nate’s voice calls for him to come in. The office is thankfully empty when he walks inside, and he closes the door behind him before walking over to Nate’s desk. Nate looks about the same as always. Sitting in his desk chair, suit jacket tossed over the back of the chair, white sleeves rolled halfway up his arms, and he looks…tired. He’s probably not sleeping enough and still going for his insanely long morning runs.

“I don’t remember calling for a meeting, Person,” Nate says as Ray gently places his backpack on Nate’s desk. 

“Probably because you didn’t. I called this meeting.” Ray carefully pulls out containers and starts setting them on the desk, and he ignores Nate’s curious look as he works. It’s been two months since Ray finished his bodyguard job, and he’s been busy. He’s barely had a night off since, but he’s run into Nate a few times. Every time they’d bumped into each other, Nate had been his usual laidback and nice self. Ray had even accidentally walked in on Nate reading some soldier the Riot Act, and Nate had paused the lecture to smile at Ray and tell him they’d talk later. (Ray had thought the poor soldier was going to pass out when Nate turned his attention back to him.)

“I didn’t realize you had that authority.” Right now Nate is leaned back in his chair and looks perfectly at ease, so Ray knows that he isn’t interrupting anything important. If Nate didn’t want him here, he’d say so. Nate might be a nice guy, but he’s also an honest and blunt kind of guy. Ray respects anyone that can pull all that off. 

“Someone’s gotta keep you alive. And deli sandwiches for dinner will not keep you alive for long.” At that, Nate looks away from him and down at the containers on his desk. He pops open the container sitting directly in front of him, and Ray bites the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling as Nate looks up at him again. 

“You cooked me dinner?” Okay, that sounds entirely too sappy. Especially considering that Ray is standing in his Boss’s office. 

“No, I cooked dinner for myself and then remembered that my boss doesn’t know how to take care of himself. Since I have tonight off, I thought I’d do everyone a favor and save us from having to break in a new LT.” Ray drops his now empty backpack onto the floor and rests a hip against the front of Nate’s desk, and he reaches out to pick up his own container of food.

“You’re too kind, Ray. Pass me a bottle of water.” Ray does as asked and passes over the bottle of water, and he nudges another container over once Nate is halfway done with his home cooked hamburger. Nate raises a brow after looking at the potato salad, and Ray hands over a wrapped plastic fork.

“How can you remember to go running every morning but forget to eat real food for dinner?” Ray’s eating his own burger, and he takes another bite after asking the question. 

“I’m tired after I leave here.” Ray can forgive him for that. He’s actually watched Nate work, and he never really stops. He has a few hours to himself in the morning, where he goes _running_ of all things, and then he works until about three in the morning. Ray’s surprised that he hasn’t snapped yet. 

“Which is why I showed up with gifts instead of a lecture,” Ray says and gets a little more comfortable sitting on Nate’s desk. 

“Is this going to be a regular thing then?” Nate looks a little more relaxed, like he does when sitting at the kitchen table as opposed to working in his basement office, so Ray must have done something right. 

“Only if you give me more Saturdays off.” Ray’s done with his burger so he just picks at his potato salad, but Nate’s still eating pretty steadily. When he’s done with his container and looking around to see if there’s anything else, Ray pushes his barely eaten container of potato salad over. Nate doesn’t even attempt to protest, so that’s how Ray knows that Nate’s probably been skipping eating even the deli sandwiches for dinner. “How have you survived for this long?”

“Sheer stubbornness,” Nate says around a mouthful of potato salad. 

“Yeah, I can believe that. So to keep you from dropping dead behind your desk, I’ll drop off dinner every once in a while.” Nate just smiles in answer since he’s still eating, and Ray rolls his eyes before taking another long drink from his water bottle. 

Ray’s not sure if he’d call himself Nate’s friend, but he thinks that they’re more than just Boss and employee. So being somewhat friends with his boss’s boss is going to be a bit of a change, but it’s just a small adjustment. Nothing too big. He can handle doing a little more cooking and occasionally hanging out in the basement office, so it’s just a small change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that’s probably a lot to take in, so where to start? 
> 
> Don’t worry about Macy. I only mentioned her because she’s a part of Ray’s past, and she’ll have a few mentions throughout the story but won’t be making a reappearance. As for the gang hierarchy, I debated with that for a long time. I finally settled on General-Lieutenant-Captain-Sergeant-Soldier. No special titles or anything like that, because I don’t want it to get too complicated. (Also, I kind of wanted Nate to outrank most people because let’s be honest, he totally deserves to be at the top of the totem pole. Close to the top. Close enough.) If there’s any questions about how the gang works, I’d be happy to answer!
> 
> I’m still new to writing in this fandom, so please let me know if I’m butchering anyone’s characterization. It’s an AU so some stuff is going to obviously be different, but I want to try and keep everyone in character as much as possible. 
> 
> The song that Ray sings at breakfast is _Teenage Dirtbag_ by Wheatus.


	3. Little Trip

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to wait a little longer before posting again, but I’ve been writing on this story a lot over the past couple of days so I decided to go ahead and post another chapter. I think I’m going to keep the chapters long, unless someone asks for shorter chapters.
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone reading! Now I’m going to shut up and let you get to reading.

**2018 June 13**

Ray’s lounging on the couch and absently watching a rerun of some cop drama when he hears the front door opening, and he pops up into a sitting position. Walt’s standing just inside the house and closing the front door, and he looks just the same as always. A little worn around the edges from not sleeping or eating enough, but definitely healthy and in one piece. Ray scrambles his way off the couch and then around it, and he sees Walt’s eyes widen right before Ray crashes into him.

“Holy shit, homes! We thought you were dead!” Ray grabs both of Walt’s shoulders and shakes him a little, because he really had been worried that his roommate was a goner. 

“I was only gone for six weeks.” They’ve all worked jobs that lasted for months, so six weeks isn’t something to worry about. Still, it’s been a crazy six weeks. 

“No one had heard from you, and shit has been insane around here like you won’t believe.” Ray’s lucky that he was even home to see Walt come in, because he’s been going pretty much nonstop for the past several weeks. 

“Should I be worried?” Ray backs up until the couch is right behind him, and he reaches up to lightly scratch at the back of his neck. 

“We’re all worried, and I’ll tell you all about it after you take a shower. You reek, dude.” Ray makes a show out of holding his nose and waving the air in front of him, and Walt swats at the side of his head with a smile. 

“Asshole,” Walt grunts out before walking away. 

“I’ll let Brad and Nate know that you’re back!” Ray calls out. Walt yells something that’s too muffled for Ray to make out, but he’s pretty sure that Walt’s just letting him know that he heard him. 

So Ray pulls his phone out of his pocket and collapses back onto the couch, and he sends off identical texts to Brad and Nate to let them know that Walt’s okay and back at home. Brad texts him back first, just a simple _okay_ , and Ray puts his phone on his stomach as he looks at the TV. The shower has already shut off when his phone goes off again, and he waits a minute before picking up his phone and quickly reading Nate’s text. Ray and Walt are being asked to attend a meeting that night, and Ray tries not to sigh. Meetings have always been a chore, but now they’re even worse because Ray has to actually pay attention and say his opinions out loud. It’s been hell for everyone. 

“So, what’d I miss?” Walt asks as he falls into the recliner next to where Ray’s feet are hanging off the couch. There’s a pizza box in his lap and a new bottle of water on the little coffee table, and Ray’s pretty sure that’s the pizza he picked up two nights ago. It should still be edible. 

“So much shit, I can’t even…Okay, you remember the Reynolds case?” Walt nods instead of answering, because his mouth is full of two day old pizza, and Ray tries to think of what to say next. How’s he supposed to describe all of the stupidity that’s been going on?

“They were just about to vote when I left to hunt down that guy that took a shot at Brad,” Walt says when Ray is quiet for too long. Oh yeah, Ray remembers Walt and Brad talking about that mission now. Brad had wanted to go after the dude, but Godfather wouldn’t let him because the dude knew who Brad was. So they sent Walt instead. Walt has been chasing that guy for six weeks?

“Yeah, well, they never made it that far,” Ray says and crosses his arms over his chest. So much fuckin’ stupidity. 

“So they finally saw sense?” Walt’s such an optimist. It’s almost adorable. (Who’s Ray kidding? It’s totally adorable, but Ray’s not going to say that out loud because Walt’s also a total badass who can possibly kick his ass if he’s motivated enough to do so.)

“Like those idiots know what sense is? Nah, homes, they carried out the kill order before taking a vote. On Godfather’s orders.” Walt pauses right after grabbing another slice of pizza, and Ray’s head is braced against the arm of the couch so he can see Walt’s blue eyes widen as that little piece of news sinks in. 

“But she was only thirteen.” Ray raises his brows, and Walt’s face falls a little as he raises the slice and takes another bite. 

That whole case was just a big clusterfuck. Not only did Schwetje, one of the captains, kill someone in front of a witness. No, that’s not quite stupid enough. The fucking idiot killed someone in front of a thirteen year old girl, and the case somehow managed to get all the way to the court. Killing the witness had been the obvious solution, and Ray was all for it until they found out that the witness was a thirteen year old girl. Some guys actually wanted to kill her, just some kid who’d been at the wrong place at the wrong time, and the rest wanted to just scare her. They’d been talking about sitting down for a meeting to take a vote, but the girl was found dead the day before they were set to vote. 

“So instead of voting like everyone planned, we got together the day after she was killed to figure out what the hell happened. That’s when Godfather told us that he gave the order and that was that.” Ray tries not to roll his eyes as he remembers that moment. Godfather had been sitting in his chair, collected and calm, and Ray had felt sick. He’d joined the Devil Dogs to have a purpose and to have people look out for him, not to kill little kids. 

“There’s no way everyone was cool with that,” Walt says after a moment. 

“Definitely not. There was so much yelling after Godfather dropped that bomb, until Nate stood up.”

“Oh shit.” Yeah, Nate was always quiet during meetings. Whenever he did speak up, everyone shut up and paid attention. So watching Nate stand up, actually stand up, had been a moment worth remembering. Same went for the shocked look on Schwetje’ s face when Nate trained his angry and disappointed glare on him. 

“Oh shit is right, Walter. Nate was fucking pissed, and he gave some epic speech about morals and democracy. It was really beautiful, I’m sorry you missed it. So Nate finishes his grand speech and then says that he’s done. That he’s not going to be a part of an organization that kills kids, but he didn’t walk out alone.”

“Are you saying that people quit the gang? Can we even do that?” If someone had asked Ray that question before that day, Ray’s answer would have been a solid _no_. No one could just quit, especially not like that. 

“We did more than just quit. Quitting’s easy. We straight-up rebelled and formed our own little gang, under Nate.” Walt looks surprised, which makes sense, so Ray keeps talking. “Nate wasn’t too happy about it, because he’s a giant fucking worrier like that, but we managed to convince him that we understood the risks and stood by our decision. None of us wanted to keep working for Godfather after that. So a lot of people left, some stayed with Godfather, and the rest of us are working for Nate now.”

“Fuck.” Walt runs a hand over his hair as he slouches in the recliner, and Ray waits a minute for him to get his thoughts in order. “Okay, who did what?”

“Start from the top?” There’s so many changes that Ray barely knows where to start, so starting from the top and working his way down seems like the smartest thing. 

“I know Nate left. I’m guessing Lieutenant Eckloff stuck with Godfather?” Ray nods, because of course Eckloff stayed with Godfather, and Walt nods back at him before moving on to the next group of officers. “Did Encino Man and Captain America stay with Godfather?”

“Of fucking course they did. Who else is going to let them pollute the world with their idiocy?” Fucking Schwetje and McGraw. Out of the four captains, they were the worst. 

“Patterson and Lovell?” Walt asks. 

“They took off. Decided to go on a permanent vacation,” Ray says and waves a hand in the air. Lovell was okay, and Patterson had been a good captain. It was too bad that neither of them had joined Nate’s team. 

“What about the sergeants?” Ray quickly thinks over the names, there’d been eight sergeants before things went crazy, and he ticks off the names as he goes. 

“Sixta and Griego are still with Godfather, but we’ve got Wynn and Brad. Pappy, Rudy, Kocher, and Baptista went with the permanent vacation option.” Walt swears as he hears the list, and Ray starts waving his hands around. “Oh, there’s more, homes. Wait until you hear which soldiers took off and decided to get out while the getting was good.”

“Who?” Soldiers were at the bottom of the totem pole, and there was a fuckton of them compared to the officer rankings. Ray didn’t even know most of the soldiers, but he knew the top ranked ones. Him and Walt were lucky enough to be in the top ten, and the top ten soldiers were all friends. They had to be in order to survive, and it helped to know other guys dealing with the same bullshit. 

“Lilley, Garza, Manimal, Chaffin, and Dirty Earl all took off.” Ray was actually sad to see them go. Yeah, they could all be assholes, but so could Ray. These were dudes that he’d known for years, and he was still adjusting to walking into Bravo and not seeing Lilley or Garza behind the main bar. 

“Q-Tip and Christeson? They wouldn’t have stayed with Godfather.” Walt sounds sure about that, and he’s right to sound sure. All soldiers have to be vouched by an officer to get into the Devil Dogs, like how Brad vouched for Ray and Walt, which made that officer a kind of sponsor for the soldier. Stafford and Christeson? They were the only soldiers sponsored by Nate, like how Ray and Walt were the only soldiers sponsored by Brad. 

“Nah, they’re with us. The only one in the top ten that stayed with Godfather is Trombley.”

“Fucking Trombley,” Walt mumbles and moves the pizza box onto the table. 

“The past six weeks have been a fucking shit-show, dude. Godfather’s pissed at Nate and everyone that followed him, and he ain’t shy about letting us know. We’ve all been shot at, and we’re waiting for Godfather to lose his shit and really come after us. So if you want out, this is your chance.”

“I’m not going anywhere. The LT has always looked out for us. You trust him, Brad trusts him, and I’d rather follow him than Godfather.” Walt says it all quickly, but Ray can tell that he means what he’s saying. Walt’s not going to run. 

“Good answer! We’ve got a meeting with Nate and Brad in an hour, so go take a quick nap if you want.” Walt nods and then walks off to his room, and Ray relaxes against the couch. It’s time for him to take his own nap before going to see what’s in store for them.

**.xXx.**

“I’m assuming Person has you up to speed, Hasser.” Ray’s sprawled out on the couch in Nate’s office at Bravo, Nate’s sitting in his office chair, and Brad and Walt are standing in front of Nate’s desk. Ray had offered them a place on the couch when they first arrived, but they both declined. It’s their loss. Ray’s not going to stand for however long this meeting takes.

“Yes, sir.” If Ray’s not mistaken, Walt’s standing perfectly at attention. He knows that Brad is, because Brad’s a giant freak like that. 

“And you understand the risks you’ll be facing if you decide to stay?” It’s the same thing that Nate has asked all of them, which Ray totally understands. Nate’s taking this seriously and he wants all of them to be serious about the situation too. He just can’t seem to get it through his overly educated head that they get the situation and are sticking with Nate because they _want_ to. 

“Yes, sir.” Ray drums his fingers against his stomach as Nate tries to stare Walt down, but Walt doesn’t fidget or so much as twitch. Ray’s going to burst with pride. 

“And you’re staying?” Of course Walt is going to stay. Walt’s a solid guy. (Ray tried to convince him to run for the hills while he was still young on the drive over, but Walt had just laughed and told Ray that he was stuck with him.)

“I am, sir,” Walt says and lifts his chin just a little bit more. 

“Very well, Hasser. You can both relax now.” Nate leans back in his chair after speaking, and Brad smiles as he slaps a hand against Walt’s shoulder. Ray can see Walt smiling as he steps over to the couch, and Ray bends his knees and pulls his feet closer to his body to give Walt somewhere to sit. “Ray, try not to get any more relaxed.”

“At maximum relaxation, sir,” Ray drawls and grins over at Nate. Brad’s leaning against the front of Nate’s desk, but he’s leaning against the far end so that he can still see all of them. Which means that Ray can perfectly see the Iceman’s patented icy look, but Brad doesn’t scare him. Not in this moment at least. 

“I need everyone to stay away from the north side of the city. Godfather’s made it clear that none of us are welcome in what I’m assuming he thinks of as his territory. The others already know, and I need you three to promise to stay away from the north and to not cause trouble.” Nate looks around at all of them after speaking, and Ray realizes that he’s nodding absently. It’s not like he’s going to go against what Nate’s saying, because he’s really not in a hurry to get shot. Again.

“Of course, sir,” Brad says first. Walt looks a little bit confused, because they normally don’t avoid trouble. If anything, Godfather used to order them right into the fire. So Ray takes pity on Walt and attempts to explain. 

“Nate wants all of us to exist together peacefully, so we’re trying to stay under the radar and not piss anyone off.” Ray grins at Walt and then twists around to look over at Nate. “We’ll stay clear, sir. Don’t worry.”

The meeting continues on from there, but there’s no bad news to report. Everyone’s still in one piece, even though Q-Tip and Christeson got shot at when they attempted to cross the little border between the north and south sides of their city. Right now, they’re mostly worried about keeping things running on their side. Their work force has been severely reduced since everything fell apart, and they’re still adjusting. Nate’s actually considering hiring some civilians to work at Bravo to help them keep things going, because there’s only three soldiers left to work the club. Well, four now that Walt is back. Still, that’s not really enough to run a nightclub and they need the club to stay open because that’s where a lot of their money comes from. 

The meeting ends after another twenty minutes, because Nate isn’t anything like Godfather. Godfather loved to talk and loved to listen to others talk for him, but Nate prefers to get right to the point. If there’s anything they want to say or ask, they’re encouraged to do so. Nate actually listens to what they have to say, and he’ll adjust their plans accordingly if he needs to. So their meetings rarely last for very long, which Ray is thankful for. He’s not sure if he’d be able to pay attention if these meetings dragged on forever, and that’s not good since he has to give his two cents now. 

“Stay for a minute, Person.” Ray pauses in the process of getting off the couch, and he lets himself fall back onto the cushion as Brad and Walt pause at the door. “I won’t keep him long. Five minutes, tops.”

“Which means don’t run off with my jeep!” Ray calls out as Walt steps through the door. The last thing he sees is Walt’s middle finger raised in the air before the door closes, and Ray’s still grinning when he looks over at where Nate’s sitting behind his desk. 

“You explained everything to Hasser? You didn’t leave anything out?” Nate’s got his worried face on again. Or maybe he just keeps it on. It’s hard to tell lately. Right now his brows are drawn down tight and there’s a hard edge to his jaw. Ray gives it thirty seconds before he starts gnawing on his bottom lip.

“I told Walt everything that happened, told him who all left, and I even told him that no one would think less of him if he decided to get out. Walt’s a solid dude. If he wanted out, he’d leave. He doesn’t want to leave.” And now Nate is chewing on his bottom lip, which Ray knows is a sign of nervousness. He had a feeling that becoming friends with his Boss was a bad idea, but it’s been two years and Ray’s not going to abandon the guy now. Even if his nervous tick is a little distracting. “Alright, out with it.”

“Out with what?” Nate’s eyes are wide and innocent-looking, but that look isn’t fooling Ray. So with a sigh that he feels all the way down into his bones, Ray hefts himself off of the couch and drags his feet over to Nate’s desk. He crosses the invisible line that most employees know not to cross and steps behind Nate’s desk so that he can lean back against it, and Nate turns in his chair so that he can look up at him. Ray normally just rests against the front of the desk, he never walks behind it, but he’s never seen Nate look so out of it before either. 

“What’s got you so freaked out? And before you say nothing, remember who you’re talking to. I know you, homes. So cut the bullshit and tell your pal Ray-Ray what’s going on in that genius brain of yours.” To better emphasize his seriousness, Ray lifts one foot and lightly pushes against the seat of Nate’s chair. Since Nate has both feet planted solidly on the ground, the chair doesn’t move but he does look down at where Ray now has his foot propped up on the seat. 

“You think I’m a genius?” Ah, deflection. Nate’s not normally the type to deflect, he’s usually too straightforward for that shit, and Ray crosses his arms as he narrows his eyes in a glare. 

“I ain’t afraid to smack an officer.” Nate’s tired face shifts into a wide smile, and Ray can actually see the tense line of his shoulders and arms relaxing as his head falls back against his chair. 

“What if we’re making a mistake?” Nate’s voice is quiet, especially in the always quiet office, and Ray does him the courtesy of actually thinking of a response and not just saying the first thing that comes to mind. Which is that of course they’re making a mistake. Godfather’s been running Mathilda since before Ray moved out to California, and he’s not going to just give up and let them be. People are going to get hurt, people are more than likely going to die on both sides, and it’s going to be hell for a while. 

“Everyone had their own reasons for joining the Dogs. I don’t know about everyone else, that’s their personal shit, but I know that I didn’t join up to sit back as kids were killed. We didn’t leave Godfather out of loyalty to you. We left because none of us wanted to work for someone who might order us to kill someone that doesn’t deserve it. So stop thinking that you forced us into a dangerous situation or whatever other bullshit is going through your head. This is our decision. Got it?” 

Now that he’s sitting even closer, he can tell just how tired Nate looks. There’s dark smudges under his eyes, which means he’s been sleeping even less than usual. He also looks a little…smaller. Like he’s starting to fold in on himself. The idiot’s probably skipping meals again, and Ray knows that he’s working himself too hard. Nate’s a brilliant leader, but he sucks at taking care of himself. As annoying as that is, it’s another one of the reasons why Ray followed after Nate that day. While Godfather is content to sit back and let others do the work for him, Nate doesn’t mind getting his hands dirty. Ray’s learned over the past couple of years that Nate would never ask someone to do something that he wouldn’t readily do himself. Nate doesn’t just see them as tools to get a job done.

“Maybe you should be in charge.” The office has been quiet for too long while Nate thought over his words, and Ray lets out a quiet snort while rolling his eyes. 

“Yeah, pass. I’ll leave the leading to you. My job is to shoot motherfuckers and to keep you from getting lost in your own tumultuous thoughts.” At Nate’s surprised look and raised brow, Ray shifts the foot braced on the chair and nudges his booted toes against Nate’s thigh. “Don’t give me that look. I know big words too.”

“I know that you’re smart, Ray.” 

“Don’t tell anyone else. I’ve got a reputation to uphold.” That gets another smile out of Nate, and he doesn’t look quite so tired when he smiles like that. “When was the last time you ate? And poptarts and takeout don’t count.”

The silence drags on for a minute, and Ray can actually see Nate thinking. His brows are furrowed, and he taps his fingers against the desk. It’s not a good sign. Then Nate’s thinking face shifts into something that Ray can’t name, because Nate’s suddenly looking down instead of up at him or straight ahead. He’s still tapping his fingers against the desk, and Ray can see just the slightest bit of color in his cheeks when he bends down to try and get a look at Nate’s face. 

“When was the last time you brought me dinner?” After that first time a couple of years ago, Ray made a habit of bringing Nate dinner about once a week. Sometimes Nate wasn’t busy and they were able to talk a little in between bites, and sometimes Nate had been wrapped up in work so Ray had just dropped food off for him. The past six weeks have been crazy though, so Ray’s been slacking in the cooking and delivering department. 

“Like a month ago. You haven’t had dinner in a month?” They’re in the middle of a gang war, and their leader is going to die of malnutrition. Or scurvy. 

“I’ve been busy,” Nate shrugs. Ray reaches up to scrub both hands across his face, mostly to keep himself from yelling at his boss, and he takes in a slow breath and then releases it just as slowly. 

“I’m gonna go home, cook whatever’s in the fridge, and then I’m coming back here. And you’re going to eat every single bite, or I’m going to stir up a mutiny.” Ray’s got one finger pointed at Nate to back up his claim, and Nate raises both hands in the air like he’s surrendering. Which is hilarious because Nate’s not the surrendering type. 

“I’m not going anywhere.” Ray pushes against the chair until it rolls back a centimeter and then slips off the desk, and he’s surprised that Nate keeps eye contact with him as he stands up. 

“You’re an idiot, sir.”

“Noted, Person.” Ray rolls his eyes for the last time and then walks out of the office. He’s gotta find Walt, stop by the grocery store, and then cook up something that their fearless leader will eat. A minion’s job is never done.

**2018 June 14**

Ray’s stretched out on the couch in Nate’s office again, but Walt and Brad are off doing their own thing. Which is just as well, because it’s a boring fucking day. Godfather’s people are being quiet and keeping to themselves for once, but Ray’s pretty sure that it’s just a case of “calm before the storm” or some other bullshit like that. Whatever. He’s not going to complain about the down time. It gave him time to make a homemade pizza, he fucking kneaded the dough and everything, and Nate looks a little more human after having a real dinner two nights in a row. Ray would give himself a pat on the back if he wouldn’t have to sit up to do so.

“You didn’t have to do this, Ray.” He squints one eye open to look over at Nate, and the pizza that Ray brought him is nearly completely gone. He’s kind of impressed. He didn’t think Nate could eat that much that fast, but that’s his proof that Nate’s been too much of an overworked idiot lately. Ray’s going to have to keep a closer eye on him. 

“I cooked that of my own free will. You want it in writing?” Ray’s eyes are closed again, but he can hear Nate’s quiet laugh anyway. Then the office goes quiet again, so Ray lets himself relax into the couch. There’s no telling when he’ll need to get up and actually do shit, so he’s going to enjoy this while he can. Because honestly? He’s got a feeling that there’s some bad shit headed their way, and he’s not going to face any of it without a quick nap first.

**2018 June 19**

“Hey, Ray! You got any clothes that need washing?! Ray!” His bedroom door opens right as he’s shoving another tee shirt into his duffel, and he can see Walt freezing in his doorway as he looks around. “You’re not bailing, are you?”

“I’m gonna pretend you didn’t just say that stupid shit.” Ray zips the duffel and snags his boots before twisting around to sit on his bed, and he glances over at Walt before tugging the first boot on. Walt must be able to read something in his expression, because he slumps against Ray’s doorway and crosses his arms. 

“What happened?” Walt asks while Ray’s angrily tying his boots. Which is totally a thing, because Ray’s kinda angry and he’s taking it out on his laces. 

“Macy was in some kind of accident. They won’t give me the details. All I know is that she’s alive but not conscious,” Ray explains while pulling on his other boot. 

“That sucks. Wait, why’d they call you?” Walt met Macy a few times, before Macy left. The two of them always got along, Ray might have even called them friends, and he blows out a breath as he thinks over the phone call he got a few minutes ago. Is this what shock feels like? He feels kinda numb, and he’s not one hundred percent sure that he’s breathing regularly. 

“I’m still her emergency contact.” Macy left him three years ago, she even left the fucking state, so Ray shouldn’t be her emergency contact anymore. Macy’s never had a problem with making friends, people have always been drawn to her, so it doesn’t make sense for Ray to be her emergency contact. He is though, and they’re saying that he has to be the one to make decisions for her and sign a fuckton of paperwork. 

“Where’s she at?” When Macy left, Ray didn’t try to track her down. She wanted to leave, and Ray chasing after her wouldn’t have helped either of them. They were over before she left him, and her leaving was the best thing for them. A clean break. 

“Fucking Las Vegas, dude. I’m getting to go to Vegas, but I’m only going to have time to hang out at the hospital. How fucked up is that?” He’s got both boots on now, surprisingly clean jeans, and a tee shirt without any holes in it. This is as good as he’s going to get, so it’s time for him to head out. He’s wasting daylight. 

“You gotta call Nate.” Ray’s standing next to his bed now, duffel on his shoulder and ready to go, and he feels something in his stomach clench. _Shit_. This is such bad timing.

“I’ll call him,” Ray says as he walks past Walt. There’s no point in standing around and trying to think through everything. He has to go, and Nate will understand. “Keep the house standing while I’m gone!”

“Be careful, asshole!” Walt calls after him. Ray throws an arm in the air before slipping out the front door, and he pulls his phone out of his pocket before sliding behind the wheel of his jeep. He doesn’t really like talking on the phone while driving the clunker, but he’s not going to waste any more time talking to Nate in his driveway. 

Ray’s at the end of his street before he presses Nate’s name to call him, and he drums a thumb against the steering wheel as he listens to the phone ring. He only listens to three rings before Nate picks up, and Ray realizes that he’d been hoping that it’d go to voicemail. He knows that things are tense right now, and he doesn’t want to let Nate down. (Even though there’s a voice in the back of his head that reminds him that Nate won’t see it that way, because Nate’s awesome like that.) Nate sounds a little distracted when he answers, and Ray sucks in a breath through his teeth before launching right into it. 

“My ex is unconscious in a Vegas hospital, I’m the emergency contact, so I gotta go to Vegas. Sign some papers, make sure she’s okay, shouldn’t take more than a day or two.” There’s a pause over the line, Ray can just picture Nate freezing in his pacing while he thinks over the verbal diarrhea, and Nate’s tone is even when he answers. 

“Stop at the house. I’ll be ready when you get here.” Of all the things that Ray had been expecting, that definitely isn’t one of them. 

“Why?” Ray never would have questioned Godfather, but Nate isn’t Godfather. (Thank God.)

“I’ve got contacts in Vegas. While you check on your ex, I can talk to them. I’ve been trying to meet with them for weeks. Now is as good of a time as any.” Ray vaguely remembers Nate mentioning having contacts in other states, but he doesn’t remember any names. If Nate even mentioned names. He’s having problems remembering most things right now. 

“We’re taking my jeep.” There’s a deep sigh over the line, because Nate always expects Ray’s jeep to quit at inopportune times, but this old clunker is going to survive the Apocalypse. 

“Fine. I’ll be ready when you get here.” The line goes dead, and Ray drops his phone into the empty cup holder next to him.

Today is not going the way that he expected. First, there’s the weird phone call from a Vegas hospital. He hasn’t even thought about Macy in quite a while, and now she’s all he can think about because the doctor wouldn’t even tell him what happened to her. Just that she was in an accident and unconscious. Now, he’s going on a roadtrip with his boss while they’re dealing with a gang war. There’s no way that anything good can come from this little trip. Ray is, completely and undoubtedly, fucked.

**.xXx.**

“Where do you want me to drop you?” Ray asks as they drive into Vegas. It’s only about four in the afternoon, because the drive from Mathilda to Vegas is right under five hours, and it’s been a very strange several hours. Ray’s drove, without singing along to the radio even once, and Nate has been pretty much glued to his phone. There’s been a lot of quiet yelling and a lot of long stretches of listening, and Ray’s on the verge of pulling out his hair. He doesn’t like it when things are quiet. It makes him twitchy.

“Just drop me off at a hotel. I’ll find my way from there.” Since they’re currently idling at a red light, Ray turns in the seat just a little and looks at Nate head on. 

“That sounds like the worst fucking plan I’ve ever heard. How do I know someone isn’t going to snipe you the second I drop you off?” Nate’s lips thin as their eyes meet, but it’s not like Ray’s going to take the question back. He clearly didn’t think this through. He’s got hospital bullshit to deal with, which means that there isn’t going to be anyone to watch Nate’s back. 

“I can handle myself just fine, Ray.” Okay, yeah, logically Ray knows that Nate is perfectly capable of taking care of himself. Ray’s seen him drop fools without breaking a sweat, but they’re hours away from home. Godfather might not always make the best decisions, but there’s a reason that he’s been on top for as long as he has. What if he’s had someone tailing Nate this entire time? Shooting him in an unfamiliar city would be a lot easier than trying to catch him off-guard in his own territory, right? 

“We really did not think this one through,” Ray says and then rolls under the green light. He’s probably already passed several hotels, but they all look suspicious to him. _Everything_ looks suspicious to him. They’re only four and a half hours away from Mathilda and he’s already paranoid as hell. 

“Stop worrying about me.” Ray rolls his eyes even though Nate can’t see and quickly turns into the parking lot of a Plaza Hotel. It’s only a few minutes away from the hospital, and it’ll have to do because Ray can’t drive in circles around the city just because he’s feeling paranoid as all hell. 

“You’re not the boss of me.” Nate’s stare feels like a physical touch on the side of his face, and Ray shifts in his seat and curls his fingers tighter around the wheel. “You know what I mean.” He finally turns his face, just a bit, and Nate’s still looking at him. He doesn’t look upset, or even worried. No, the asshole actually looks amused! “You’ve got five seconds to get out of my jeep or I’m dragging you along with me.”

“I’ll book you a room.” The passenger door opens after that and Nate smoothly slides out of the vehicle, as opposed to how Ray usually just falls out of it, and Ray watches the way that Nate easily hefts his bag up onto his shoulder. 

“Yo! Boss man!” Nate pauses in mid-step and turns to look at him, and Ray can feel sweat starting to bead on the back of his neck. “Keep your eyes open, okay?”

“Call me when you’re done at the hospital.” Well, that’s probably as close as Ray’s going to get to a promise. So he snaps off a salute, watches Nate roll his eyes even as he smiles, and then Ray’s putting the jeep back into drive and pulling away. 

Finding the hospital is easy, thanks to the signs and everything, but it takes somewhere around fifteen minutes for Ray to find a parking space. By the time he gets to park, he’s sweaty and pissed off, and the freezing cold AC in the hospital doesn’t help his mood at all. Neither does the first nurse he talks to, who makes him sign an entire fucking stack of papers before she even tells him what floor Macy is on. Then he’s stuck in the elevator with some kind of middle aged soccer mom who keeps staring at him like he’s going to make a grab for her purse or something. (That’s not just him being paranoid either. She actually clutches her giant purse to her chest when he steps onto the elevator, and she tightens her grip every time he switches his weight to a different foot.)

By the time he steps off the elevator on the fifth floor, he’s about ready to kill someone. Or at least seriously maim someone. He’ll settle for that much. His mood must show on his face, because the dude who’d been waiting for the elevator takes one look at him and then takes three quick steps back. Normally that would just make Ray laugh, because it’s not like anything about him screams threatening, but he feels like he’s getting ready to fly apart at the seams. His hands are even shaking the smallest amount when he reaches the nurse’s station, and he stuffs his hands in his pockets as he forces himself to smile at the first nurse he sees. 

“I’m looking for my friend, Macy Sanders. The nurse downstairs said she was on this floor,” Ray says quickly. The nurse looks at him blankly for a moment, and Ray feels his jaw twitch as his teeth clench. “You gonna tell me which room she’s in or—”

“Stop asking stupid fucking questions and just bring me an orange juice!” The yell drifts out of a room not too far down the hallway, and this time Ray’s smile feels more genuine. Because he’d know that angry yell anywhere. 

“Never mind. I think I found her,” Ray says and spins on his heel. He can hear the nurse saying something behind him, probably wants him to sign something else, but he ignores her and walks towards the room where the yell came from. A nurse is hurrying out of the room right as he reaches it, and Ray almost feels sorry for the frazzled woman. He’s been on Macy’s bad side before, and it’s not a fun place to be. 

“If you’re here to stick me or ask me what day it is, you can get the hell out!” Ray drags his boots a little more noticeably, and the squeaking sound catches Macy’s attention. She turns her head so that she’s looking towards him, and Ray feels one side of his lips quirk up into a smile. 

“Don’t be like that, Mace. Especially after I drove all the way out here to see ya,” Ray drawls as he steps farther into the room. Fuck, but Macy hasn’t aged at all since the last time he saw her. Her dark brown hair is falling around her in wild tangles, and her dark brown eyes are wide as she looks him over. She’s still thin and pale, but Ray has firsthand experience with how strong her right hook is. 

“Ray? What the fuck are you doing here?” She doesn’t sound upset at seeing him, just confused. Well, that makes two of them. He snags the chair in the corner and pulls it over to her bedside, and he falls down into it with a sigh. 

“I’m still your emergency contact,” he shrugs. Macy swears under her breath as she bunches up the hospital blanket in her fists, and she’s biting the corner of her lip when she looks over at him. She looks okay, except for the stitched up gash on the left side of her forehead. The cut is surrounded by dark bruising and swelling, but he can’t see any other obvious injuries. 

“I guess I never thought to change it,” she says quietly. Ray nods, because he figured as much once he really thought it over, and he rubs his palms across his knees as Macy continues to stare at him. “I’m sorry you had to come all the way out here, Ray. I know you were probably busy, and I’ll change that contact thing as soon as I can so I don’t bother you again.”

“You think coming to check on you was a bother? Shit, Macy, is that who we are now?” He can tell that Macy is about to say something, but he’s not done saying his piece yet. “We started out as friends, remember that? I know I fucked up at the end, but you’re always going to be someone that I care about. So driving a few hours to make sure that you’re okay isn’t a fucking bother.”

The room is quiet after that, and Ray holds still as Macy looks directly into his eyes. She always had one of those stares that could cut right through his bullshit and see all the things that he wouldn’t say, and he wants her to see all that. Wants her to know that just because their relationship ended doesn’t mean that he doesn’t care about her anymore. So he holds still and lets her look, lets her see the truth in his eyes, and she leans back against her pillow with a quiet sigh after a moment. She looks so much smaller in her hospital gown, and Ray tightens his fingers around his knees so that he won’t reach out for her. 

“I’m always going to care about you too.” She’s not looking at him as she says it and her voice is a hoarse whisper, but she still holds a hand out towards him. Ray reaches out without a second thought and laces her fingers through his, and the grip on his hand is tight. 

“Now, are you going to tell me what the fuck happened or am I gonna have to start guessing?” Her laugh is loud and is quickly followed by a curse, and she reaches up with her free hand to hold the side of her head. She looks better with a smile on her face, and she’s still smiling a little when she looks over at him. 

“I tripped over the mat outside my door and fell down the stairs.” There must be some of the disbelief he’s feeling on his face, because Macy sighs and relaxes back onto her pillow. “It sounds stupid as hell, I know, but it’s the truth. Does it look really bad?”

“Looks like someone hit you in the head with a two-by-four.” Macy groans and uses her free hand to cover her face, but her other hand stays pressed tight against his. Maybe they’ll never be close friends again, but Macy’s still holding his hand so at least they’re not acting like strangers. That’s something.

**.xXx.**

“Is everything okay?” Ray pauses outside of the hospital and looks around at the dark parking lot, and he scuffs the toe of his boot against the concrete.

“Hello to you too. My day was okay, the nurses kicked me out because visiting hours are over but joke’s on them because I swiped two things of Jell-O. How’s your day been, honeybunch?” The guy leaning against the wall a few feet over looks up from his phone at the sound of the endearment, and Ray winks at him before he starts walking away from the hospital and into the parking lot. 

“You stole Jell-O?” Nate sounds completely confused, and Ray really can’t blame him for that. It’s been a very confusing day. Ray does a quick scan of his surroundings, doesn’t spot anyone within hearing range, and smiles to himself as he drags his feet across the ground. 

“You’ve watched me shoot people dead, and you’re gearing up to judge me for stealing Jell-O? You gotta learn to prioritize better, homes.” He’s finally at his jeep, so he holds the phone between his cheek and shoulder as he digs around in his pockets for his keys. 

“But Jell-O?” _Yes!_ Ray gets his keys out and unlocks the jeep, and he throws himself into the driver’s seat with a quiet grunt.

“Keep judging me and I won’t let you have any. Now, where are you?” He starts the jeep while keeping the phone tucked right where it is, and he’s backing out of the space as Nate answers. 

“Hotel bar. Are you coming back now?” He only needs to keep one hand on the wheel, so he reaches up to grab the phone with his other hand. 

“Yeah. Did you get me a room?” It’s cool if Nate didn’t, he’s perfectly capable of checking himself into a hotel, but it’ll make things easier.

“You’re right next door. Drive safe.” Before Ray can make a crack about Nate not being his boss again, the line goes dead. His boss hung up on him. Oh yeah, Ray’s definitely going to give him a lecture on phone etiquette. 

It should be a short drive, but traffic is a little congested so it takes twice the time that it should for him to reach the Plaza Hotel. He’s still mumbling curses under his breath when he parks and then falls out of the jeep, and he shoulders his bag with a quiet groan. It feels like the day has dragged on, and he’s ready to go pass out somewhere. Sitting with Macy had been nice though. She hadn’t asked what he’d been up to, which means he didn’t have to think of any creative lies. Actually, that’s probably why she didn’t ask him anything too personal. She talked a little about her job as a waitress and about the crazy stuff her neighbors got up to, but they stayed away from any personal topics. It was like they were tiptoeing around all of the important stuff, which is probably why he feels so wrung out. He’s gotta check on Nate before calling it a night though. 

The hotel bar is dimly lit, except for the flashing machines at the back of the room, but Ray’s got a feeling that Nate’s not in the back gambling. It doesn’t seem like his style. There’s some small booths to Ray’s left, and he can see a few people sitting at the booths and other tables. Some are clearly businessman, a few tourists, and…there. In his slacks and white button-up, Nate almost blends in with the business crowd. He’s not wearing a suit jacket or a tie though, which is a good thing because Ray has a hard time taking him seriously when he’s all decked out. He’s seen the guy scrambling eggs in sweatpants, okay? He can’t take the suits seriously after seeing that. 

“Is that water or Vodka?” Ray asks as he slides into the booth across from Nate. There’s a glass in front of him that Ray easily swipes, and he takes a long sip before letting the glass thump against the tabletop. “Water. I don’t know if I’m disappointed or proud.”

“You could have just ordered your own,” Nate says and drags the glass closer to his side of the table. 

“Why would I do that when there’s a nearly full glass right there?” Ray points at the glass to help get his point across, and he ignores the small glare that Nate trains on him. By this point, he’s immune to Nate’s glares. (Unless Nate’s super pissed. Ray’s sure that a super pissed off glare from Nate would cause a different reaction. Hopefully, he’ll never have to test that theory.)

Before either of them can say anything else, two people slide into the booth with them. Ray sees Pappy first, because the now retired sergeant is sitting next to Nate and across from Ray. The next thing he sees is a wall of muscle and a blindingly white smile, and he’s yelling Rudy’s name and jumping forward to hug the giant dude now sitting next to him without a second thought. Rudy yells his name with the same amount of enthusiasm while returning the hug, and Ray’s still laughing when he scoots to the side until his back is pressed against the wall. Across from them, Nate and Pappy are watching them with small amused smiles. 

“Good to see you too, brother,” Rudy says and extends an arm across the table. Nate grabs Rudy’s hand with a smile, and Ray nods in Pappy’s direction. 

“I’m glad that both of you could make it on such short notice.” Nate waits until they’ve all settled down to say it, and Ray feels just a little bit of confusion. Nate’s contacts were Pappy and Rudy? That doesn’t really make any sense, because both of them decided that retirement was the way to go. (Ray doesn’t blame them for that. They’ve both been in for years, and they’re both still good guys. It’s smart of them to get out before they go crazy, and working for Godfather is enough to drive anyone crazy.) So Ray looks around the table and waits for someone to say something that will help him make sense of all this. 

“It’s just a good thing we were all in the same area,” Pappy says and looks over at Nate. No clarification yet, but that’s okay. Ray can be patient when he wants to be. 

“Does that mean your cousin will be joining us?” Nate’s looking at Pappy, and Ray’s searching his memory for any mention of Pappy having a cousin. So far, he’s coming up blank. Pappy does a quick scan of the room, his eyes do a sweep while he relaxes in the booth, and then he’s looking over at Nate again. 

“He’s not big on public meetings.” If this meeting is a big deal, and it must be since Nate traveled several hours away from the relative safety of his own territory, then Ray can totally understand this unknown dude’s reluctance for a public meeting. Nate’s doing something unprecedented, leaving Godfather and doing his own thing, so being seen with him could get the other dude killed. Safety first is a good policy. 

“I’m in room three twenty-one.” Pappy nods at that, and Rudy reaches up to grip Ray’s shoulder lightly. 

“We’ll get them and be right up,” Rudy says with another bright smile.

“Come on, Ray. Let’s go get settled.” Pappy moves so that Nate can slide out of the booth, but Ray just climbs over Rudy and ignores the looks he gets as he flails around. He slings his duffel onto his back as he bows to Pappy and Rudy, and he can hear Rudy laughing as he starts to walk backwards and blow kisses. He’s still shouting goodbyes across the hotel bar when Nate grabs his arm and spins him around, and he narrowly misses running into a group of tourists. 

“You’re in a better mood,” Nate says once they’re in the elevator. Ray stops rocking back and forth on his heels so that he can look over at Nate, but the boss man is looking straight ahead. 

“My friend just fell and hit her head. No major damage. If there’s no complications tonight, they’re going to let her go home tomorrow,” Ray reports with a smile. He’s not gonna lie, he expected something much worse when he first got the call. He kept picturing Macy on death’s door, but she seemed okay. 

“That’s good.” Nate’s voice is quieter than usual, but the elevator doors open before Ray can ask what’s up. He’s probably worried about whatever meeting he’s about to have. So Ray silently follows Nate off of the elevator and then accepts the room key that Nate passes over. 

“Hold up, let me just toss this inside,” Ray says and points at his duffel with his thumb. He can see Nate pausing in the hallway from the corner of his eye, and he looks over after he gets his room door open. (Room three twenty-two, right next to Nate’s.) Nate looks confused, so Ray takes pity on him and explains. “I’m not letting you have a meeting with someone we don’t know on your own. Someone’s gotta watch your back.”

“Pappy and Rudy will be there.” Ray can see just enough inside the room to know that he doesn’t knock anything over when he throws his bag inside, and he stuffs his room key into his pocket before closing the door. 

“And while I totally trust the two of them, they’re out. It’s not their responsibility to keep you alive.” Nate’s finally moving again, reaching out to open his own door, and he looks over his shoulder at where Ray is standing behind him. 

“So it’s your responsibility?” Nate’s expression is even, but there’s just the hint of a spark in his eyes. He totally wants to laugh, Ray can tell. 

“I consider it an honor, sir. Now where’s the mini fridge?” Ray strolls into Nate’s room as soon as the door is open, and he can hear Nate closing the door behind him. His eyes sweep the room first, it’s a habit at this point to always know the layout of whatever room he’s in, and he makes a quiet sound as he spots the mini-fridge. 

He tracks Nate’s movements and listens to him sit at the small table in the room, he can hear the creak of the wooden chair, and he snags two bottles of water from the mini-fridge. He holds the first one out to Nate, who takes it with a tired smile, and then he starts digging in his pockets. He got these pants specifically for the spacious pockets, and he grins as he pulls out two small cups of Jell-O. One cup gets placed on the table in front of Nate, and he holds his water bottle in the crook of his arm so that he can hold his own Jell-O cup and still have a hand free. It takes a moment for him to find the plastic wrapped spoons he’d also swiped, and he hands one of them to Nate with a triumphant grin. 

“You really stole Jell-O?” Nate’s holding the spoon and looking up at Ray with an expression that Ray can’t name, and he lets his head tilt to the side a little. 

“What kind of person lies about stealing Jell-O? Just eat your pick-me-up snack and then we’ll order some good stuff from room service for dinner.” That makes Nate smile, a little brighter but still tired-looking around the edges, but Ray will take it. He walks backwards until the backs of his knees bump against the mattress, and he drops down onto the bed with a quiet sigh. “So, what do we know about whoever you’re meeting with?”

“Pappy’s cousin is an officer in K35. I’m assuming you’ve heard of them?” Ray normally doesn’t give a shit about the politics of all the different gangs, but he’s picked up on things over the years. Mostly because Brad didn’t give him a choice and used to spring random quizzes on him when he was first training. (Brad still likes to quiz him randomly, but Ray’s been in long enough now that he can tell Brad to fuck off.)

“Don’t they stick to the east coast?” They’re supposed to be good people, with the same basic goals as the Devil Dogs. They watch out for their city, try to keep crime down and drugs out, and Ray hasn’t heard of any major scandals. 

“They do, but they had business here. We’re meeting with Pappy’s cousin and K35’s General, so try to be respectful.” Nate opens his Jell-O and takes a large bite, and Ray bites his tongue before diving into his own snack. He’s definitely ordering room service after the meeting is over. Did Nate even remember to eat breakfast this morning?

“When am I ever not respectful?” Ray asks around a mouthful of Jell-O. For hospital food, it’s not half bad. Ray shovels in another spoonful and takes another look around the room. It’s just an average hotel room, nothing fancy, but Ray’s still looking for all the places he can take cover if shit goes south. Not that he thinks it will, because he trusts Pappy and Rudy, but old habits and all. 

Nate pulls his phone out and starts staring down at it in between bites, and Ray finishes his Jell-O in record time and then tosses the trash into the little can next to the bed. He falls back onto the bed after that and rests his eyes while they wait, because he knows that he’ll be on alert after their guests arrive. Sure, he trusts his old friends and ex-gang members, but he can’t slack off when their leader’s life is possibly on the line. How the hell would he explain that to everyone? (There’s also the fact that he’d miss Nate, because they’re friends.) So Ray gets a little bit of rest while he can, and time gets a little fuzzy after he closes his eyes. He’s not sure if it’s a few minutes or a couple of hours before there’s a knock on Nate’s door, but he’s instantly alert as he moves to sit up. 

Ray’s arms are raised in the air so he can work the kinks out of his shoulders as Nate crosses the room to open the door, and Ray’s still trying to loosen up as the door is opened. He sees Rudy first, because Rudy’s a big dude and kind of takes up the entire doorway, and he can see Pappy standing just behind Rudy. They talk quietly with Nate as he lets them into the room, and Ray drops his palms onto the bed to brace his weight on his hands as he gets a look at the K35 dudes. He wasn’t really sure what he’d been expecting, but neither of them really look like gangsters. Then again, neither does Nate in his business casual attire. Ray’s putting money on the tall gangly dude being Pappy’s cousin though. If he squints, he can see the resemblance. 

“Andrew Haldane, this is Eddie Jones. It’s good to finally meet face to face,” Not-Pappy’s-Cousin says as he shakes Nate’s hand. He looks normal enough, he’s got a pleasant voice and doesn’t seem like the type to yell to get his point across, so him and Nate will probably get along just fine. 

“I’m glad we could catch you before you left. This is my top soldier, Ray Person.” Nate glances over at him as he makes the introduction, and Ray raises one hand to wave at the newcomers. (Nate just called him the top soldier. There’s only four of them left, but Ray still feels a little bubble of pride somewhere under his sternum.)

Rudy joins Ray on the bed while Nate and Pappy lead the other two over to the table at the far end of the room, and Ray’s glad that the room is just small enough that he can still hear everything being said. Godfather’s meetings with other gangs was always done in private, but Nate’s not like that. Ray remembers him saying something about believing in transparency when all of this first started, which means they’re all kept in the loop. From the top of the totem pole to the bottom. Rudy is a quiet and serene presence at his side, and Ray relaxes a little as he listens to Nate and Haldane get right to business. 

Other gangs have heard about the split, and most of them are staying out of it. (Probably waiting it out to see who wins in the end. It’s the smarter play.) Haldane’s done business with Godfather for years, and business has been getting more and more strained over the years. Killing the witness in the Reynolds case was the last straw for Haldane, so at least Ray knows that he’s a human being with a conscience. Haldane tells Nate that K35 will back him up, in any way that they can, but Nate waves off the offer because he doesn’t want to cause any ripples. (Those are Nate’s words anyway. Ray knows that Nate is just worried about getting more people hurt.) Haldane sounds respectful when he says that he understands, and then Pappy asks how things are holding up with their numbers so low. 

He doesn’t mean to, but Ray snorts out a quiet laugh. Then he can feel four sets of eyes on him, five if he counts the way that Rudy is looking over at him, and he smiles at Nate as he shrugs. Nate turns away from him to look at Pappy, and he admits that it’s been a bit of a struggle. They’re down to two sergeants and only four soldiers, so there’s only seven of them counting Nate. Godfather has the numbers and just enough batshit crazy to take them on, and they’ve all been waiting for him to really make a move. Haldane shares a few quiet words with Jones after hearing that, and Ray has to strain to hear whatever he’s saying. 

“Haven’t Lucky’s boys been complaining about having nothing to do?” Haldane has a way of speaking that reminds him of Nate, that same kind of quiet command in his tone without any condescension.

“You did demote them,” Jones says with a small smile. Wait, they can get demoted? Ray’s never heard of anyone being demoted before. Does that mean he can get demoted if he keeps mouthing off at Brad? Nah, Brad likes him too much to demote him. 

“I think a change of scenery would be good for them.” Haldane’s smiling as he turns to look at Nate, and he looks amused to Ray. Is that a good thing or a bad thing? “Nate, how would you feel about four of my guys helping you out? Just until things with Godfather are settled?”

“Can they bartend?” Ray and Christeson have been running themselves ragged trying to balance bartending with staying on alert for any of Godfather’s people, and Q-Tip has even taken nights off from DJ’ing much to the crowd’s displeasure. They can’t keep pulling triple shifts like they’ve been doing.

Nate and Haldane work out the details, and it sounds like they’ll have company in a couple of days. Ray’s always been a little unsure of new people, more so now that they’re in some kind of civil war, but he wants to trust these guys. Right now, he’s going to let Pappy and Rudy trust them enough for him. Also, it sounds like Haldane and Nate kind of know each other. It sounds like it’s mostly from phone calls over a few years, but that’s good enough. Ray’s not going to argue with more help, because they need the help. They really need it if they’re going to pull this off and come out the other side alive. 

“How are you holding up, brother?” Rudy asks him as the two gang leaders iron out the little details. It’s nothing that Ray needs to memorize, so he shifts his attention to Rudy. 

“We’re all whole. A few close calls, but nothing serious. I think Godfather’s testing us, or trying to scare us into joining back up,” Ray says with a roll of his eyes. They were trained to not be afraid, or to at least not show any fear under gunfire, and there’s no way any of them are going to go crawling back to Godfather. “How’s it being free?”

“I don’t know. It’s an adjustment,” Rudy says quietly. Rudy looks okay though, so being out must not be all that bad. It must be weird to not wake up every day knowing that you’ll have to follow someone’s orders. 

“You still got Pappy though,” Ray says and lightly nudges Rudy’s arm with an elbow. The top ten had a bet going that Pappy and Rudy were more than just close friends, and the wide smile on Rudy’s face probably means that Ray totally would have won that bet if all the others hadn’t run for the hills. (Well, he can still collect from Christeson and Q-Tip. Walt never joined in.)

“Everything always works out the way it’s meant to.” Ray’s actually happy for Pappy and Rudy. He’s glad that they got out and that they can go be happy somewhere far away from Godfather’s bullshit, and he’d tell Rudy as much if it wouldn’t sound so fucking sappy. Luckily, Nate’s little powwow breaks up before Ray can turn into a hallmark card or before Rudy can start talking about dharma. 

“I’ll give you a call as soon as they’re headed your way,” Haldane’s saying as they all start to stand up. Pappy and Jones are talking quietly together, their heads bent towards each other, and Rudy gently slaps Ray’s back before getting to his feet. The next minute is filled with goodbyes and talk-to-you-laters, and Ray raises a brow at Nate after the door is closed behind all of their guests.

“You didn’t tell me this was a recruitment meeting,” Ray says around a grin. He’s already reaching for the hotel phone so he can order room service, because a small cup of Jell-O is not enough to make up for missing lunch and it’s well-past his usual dinnertime, and he watches as Nate crosses the room to sit at the table again. 

“It wasn’t supposed to be. Pappy called and said that K35 wanted a meeting, because they’d been dissatisfied with the way Godfather’s been running things,” Nate says as Ray dials room service. 

He’s so hungry that he doesn’t really care about what they eat, and he knows that Nate’s not all that picky. So he orders the night’s special, turkey burgers with a side of onion rings, and Nate’s staring at his phone when Ray hangs up. The guy is literally always working. That can’t be healthy. Instead of calling Nate out on it though, Ray reaches into his back pocket and pulls his phone out. He knows they’ll be spending the night at the hotel, and he’s already made plans with Macy to sign some more paperwork tomorrow so she can be released. They’ll be headed back to Mathilda before noon, and he needs to update Walt and let him know what’s going on. 

“Ray! How’s Macy?” Walt asks as soon as he answers. What happened to saying hello?

“She’s okay. Mild concussion, she’ll be fine. They’re keeping her overnight for observation, and I’m signing her release forms tomorrow. I should be back around five or so.” Assuming traffic isn’t crazy, he should be home around five. He can hear Walt talking to someone, it’s muffled like Walt’s covering his phone with his hand, and Ray feels his brows draw together as he hears the low tone of someone else’s voice. “Walt? Who’s in my house?”

“No one!” Walt answers too quickly, and Ray can see Nate looking curiously at him as he glares at the wall. 

“Did you let Bradley into my house? You know that Brad isn’t allowed in the house!” It’s a little difficult to tell over a phone line, but he’s pretty sure that he can hear Brad talking shit in the background. 

“We’re talking work stuff! Since you ran off with the LT!” Walt tries to defend. 

“Then go to Brad’s house! He’s going to burn all my country music paraphernalia!” In all the years that Ray has known Brad, he’s never left him alone in his house. Brad’s only allowed to come into the house if Ray’s there to provide constant supervision. 

“You’re being paranoid, Ray. Brad’s not going to burn anything.” Brad says something that makes Walt laugh, and that can’t be a good sign.

“If any of my shit is damaged, I’m taking it out on you!” Ray threatens. It’s easier to threaten Walt when he can’t actually see him, because Walt looks like fucking sunshine and it’s difficult to threaten a sunshine child. Over the phone though? Ray can say whatever he wants. 

“Everything’s going to be just as you left it,” Walt promises. There’s some muffled yelling in the background, and Ray can feel one leg bouncing as he tries to make out whatever insane bullshit Brad is spouting. “Oh, and Brad says not to corrupt the LT while you’re slacking off.”

“You tell Brad that the LT is too upstanding to be corrupted! And I am not slacking off, motherfucker! I am taking care of business! And when I get back, I’m kickin’ both of your asses!” Walt’s still laughing as he says he’ll see him tomorrow and then hangs up, and Ray’s muttering curses as he stuffs his phone back into his pocket. He can feel eyes on him though, so he looks up to see Nate studying him. 

“Do I even want to know what all of that was about?” Nate asks after a moment. 

“Brad’s not allowed in my house because he’s promised, on numerous occasions, to destroy all of the possessions that I hold dear. And Walt, the traitor, let Brad into my house! Then Brad accused me of attempting to corrupt you _and_ of slacking off! How fucked up is that?” Ray rambles out and then falls back against the bed. Like anyone could ever corrupt Nate Fick? And Ray’s not a slacker. He might be lazy at times, but he’s not a slacker. There’s a difference, and Ray will make sure to educate Brad on that difference as soon as he sees him again. 

“I’ll make sure that Brad is made aware that you were here to work as my bodyguard while I had a very important meeting with our friends from the east,” Nate says in a decisive tone. Ray rolls his head against the mattress so that he can look over at Nate, but he’s focused on his phone again. 

“I thought we agreed that you were too badass to need a bodyguard?” Without really thinking about it, Ray reaches up to scratch at the top of his right shoulder. He can feel the raised scar tissue through the tee shirt he’s wearing, because he wound up caving and going to see Doc Bryan to get stitches, and the graze healed…well, not badly but it’s not as smooth as some of Ray’s other scars. 

“How about I settle for not accepting a different bodyguard?” Nate’s looking at Ray’s shoulder now too, but Nate hasn’t seen the scar. For all Nate knows, there’s just a faint line on Ray’s skin. (The scar is actually a dark pink, thick and a little jagged, and sometimes the muscle aches if he overextends himself.)

“Is that your way of asking me to be your personal bodyguard for life? Because that’s one hell of a commitment, homes. I’d have to think about it. Really dig deep to make sure that it was a good fit for me.” Ray’s grinning even as he talks, and he can tell that Nate’s fighting down a smile because his cheek twitches and he turns his face away. 

There’s a quiet knock on the door, and Ray stays sprawled right where he is while Nate goes to the door. He can hear Nate quietly thanking the dude who brought up their food, the trays are settled on the table, and Nate tips the guy before closing the door behind him. Ray rolls his head to watch as Nate crosses the room, and he doesn’t force himself into a sitting position until Nate is sitting at the table again. Then he drags his feet across the carpet and drops down across from Nate where his own tray is sitting, and the food is still hot when he digs in. 

The food is delicious, the turkey burger is better than he thought it would be and the onion rings have the perfect amount of crunch to them, but Ray’s not so far gone on the food that he doesn’t notice the way that Nate keeps glancing at him. It’s like he can _see_ the guy thinking, and Nate even looks like he’s about to speak a couple of times. Ray waits patiently for Nate to gather his thoughts, because Nate isn’t like Brad or Walt. Brad says or asks whatever he wants, because he knows that Ray will tell him to fuck off if he doesn’t feel like answering. Him and Walt have lived together for a few years now and have seen each other after jobs that have sucked the life out of their souls, so they don’t hesitate with their words or questions. Nate’s a thinker. He has to carefully think and plan out what he wants to say or ask, and Ray respects him enough to be patient and wait for him to figure out how he wants to word whatever he wants to ask. 

“How did you get here?” Okay, Ray hadn’t been expecting that. He slowly chews his onion ring as he tries to figure out what the hell that means, but he must be even more tired than he realized because he keeps coming up blank. 

“Vegas? We drove the jeep. You sat in the passenger seat and talked on the phone the whole time.” Ray washes the last of his dinner down and then leans back in his chair as Nate’s brows furrow, and he knows that Nate’s about to clarify the question. Because now that Nate has voiced the question aloud, he’s not going to give up until he gets an honest answer. 

“How’d you get to California? In the Devil Dogs?” Ray raises his arms to drum his fingers against the table, because those are some loaded fucking questions. Questions that he normally wouldn’t answer because his life is no one’s fucking business, but this is _Nate_. The dude he followed after even while knowing that there’s a strong chance that it’ll get him killed in the very near future. 

“You asking for my life story, sir?”

“Don’t sir me.” It’s Nate’s automatic response whenever it’s just the two of them, and the familiarity of it makes Ray smile a little. 

“It’s not a very interesting story.” It really isn’t. Yeah, Ray might be in a gang, but his life’s been pretty average. 

“Maybe hearing it will put me to sleep then.” Ray eyes the dark smudges under Nate’s eyes, physical stamps that show Nate hasn’t been sleeping much lately, and he tips the chair back onto two legs as he looks up at the ceiling. 

“My dad was originally from California. Met my mom while she was on vacation and then followed her back to Missouri, married her, had me, and then died.” He looks away from the ceiling to see Nate looking intently at him, but there isn’t any kind of pity on his face. That’s good. Ray hates it when people look at him all sad-like just because he’s got a dead dad. “Car accident. Drunk driver. He was the drunk.”

To Nate’s credit, he doesn’t say _sorry_. People have always told Ray that they’re sorry for his loss, which is bullshit because they didn’t know his dad and he wasn’t alive long enough for Ray to know him either. So Ray continues on and tells Nate that his mother raised him on her own. They were below the middle-class and flirted with the poverty line, but they did okay. He skips over his childhood because no one wants to talk about that shit, or hear it, and gets right to his high school days. Talks about how he first met Macy Sanders. 

“It was freshman year and I was already well into my angry teen phase, and Macy was the new kid on top of being a foster kid. Some sophomore grabbed her ass on the first day and she decked him right in the middle of the hallway. When the fucker cried to a teacher, I told ‘em that I’d been showing her where the science lab was so she couldn’t have hit him. It was the start of a beautiful friendship.”

“This is your friend in the hospital?” Ray looks away from where his fingers are tapping on the table to meet Nate’s eyes, and he slowly nods. 

“She used to sneak out of her foster parent’s house and sneak in through my window. We’d stay up talking about how we’d get out one day, move somewhere better than a small town filled with small minded people, and then Nana Person called me about a week before highschool graduation.”

Nana Person…she’d come out to Missouri for Christmas several times over the years, and Ray had loved her. She’d always been good to him, and she’d loved his mother and called her _daughter_. Nana Person got lung cancer when Ray was a senior, and she’d asked him to come to California while she was in the hospital. Ray didn’t really understand it at the time, but now he knows that she didn’t want to die alone. He was the only family she’d had left, and he’d jumped at the chance to get out of Missouri. So right after graduation, him and Macy had packed a few things into his jeep and drove out west. Nana Person had already loved Macy, since Macy had spent the past four Christmases with the Person family, and Ray had let Macy have the guest room in his Nana’s house while he slept on the couch. 

About three weeks after they got to California, Nana Person went to the hospital and never came back out. Ray pretty much lived at her bedside for two months, and he was with her when she passed. It hadn’t been an easy time for him, but Macy had been there with him. They’d only been friends then, but she was his best friend. She was there for him when he was the only one left to arrange Nana Person’s funeral, and she’d held his hand as some lawyer in a too-big suit had told him that his Nana’s house was now his. (It took Ray three months before he stopped sleeping on the couch and moved into his Nana’s room. He’d saved up to buy a new bed first, and he’d sent a box of his Nana’s things to his mom that he thought Nana would want her to have. Even then, it still took him weeks before he could easily fall asleep in the bedroom.)

“So I didn’t have to worry about rent, but I still had other bills to pay. Macy was a secretary for some insurance company, and I was working at a garage. That’s where Brad found me.”

Brad preferred his bike, but he kept a truck on hand just in case he needed it. Ray was usually the one who fixed up the old thing, and Brad had been impressed every time Ray got it to run like new. (It’s not like Ray had known that Brad used the thing while doing super illegal shit.) Unlike most people who just dropped their vehicles off and then came back whenever they felt like it, Brad stuck around and watched as Ray worked. Ray had never been the type to turn down company, so he’d let his mouth run while he worked. It helped to pass the time. Brad’s sense of humor was dry and would insult most people, but listening to the tall motherfucker insult his lineage and intelligence had just made Ray laugh. Brad had been impressed that Ray could give back as good as he got, and they somehow became friends over the months. 

Then Brad had gotten hurt in a bad way, hadn’t been able to go to his own house, and had called Ray for help. Ray couldn’t bring him to his own house because of Macy, but he’d had the keys to the garage since he was normally the last one to leave. Ray had let Brad into the garage in the middle of the night, taken one look at all the blood and bruises, and asked what he could do to help. (As it turned out, some asshole had actually ran Brad over. Brad, being the hardcore badass that he is, had managed to steal a car despite having a broken leg and some cracked ribs.) What followed was an epic and entertaining adventure of Ray driving Brad around while Brad took out the idiots who’d been after him, and Brad had offered Ray a job afterwards. Two months after joining the Devil Dogs, Ray kissed Macy for the first time. 

“Four months, two months of us as a couple, that’s how long it took for Macy to corner me and get the truth out of me,” Ray says to the ceiling. 

“You told her?” Nate sounds confused, because one of the first things they’re told is to never tell civilians about the Dogs, and Ray hums an affirmative. 

“She knew something was up, and I didn’t like lying to her. She wasn’t just my girlfriend. She was my best friend. And it was easier with her knowing. I never told her any details about my jobs, but she knew that I was doing more than just bartending.” He’d hated the way Macy’s face had closed off whenever he told her that he was leaving to go on a job, but that feeling was nothing compared to the way he felt whenever he came home with some new injury. Macy pulled away from him with every new mark, and Ray hadn’t tried to hold on. 

“What happened?” Ray wasn’t friends with Nate when Macy left, but it wouldn’t have mattered. Ray didn’t change after Macy left. He continued on as he always had. 

“We still loved each other, but I don’t think we’d been in love for a long time. She stayed with me for two years, but I think we only lasted that long because it was familiar. It was easier to stay together because that’s what we knew.” Ray will always love Macy. He’ll always love the angry girl who used to sneak into his room through his window, just like he’ll always love the woman who had the strength to be the first one to admit that they didn’t belong together. “I came home one night, and there was a note taped to the fridge. All of her stuff was cleared out of my room and the guest room. Today’s the first time I’ve seen her since she left.”

Nate’s lips turn down just the smallest fraction as he looks down at the table, and Ray can tell that he wants to say something. Probably something in an attempt to make Ray feel better, but that’s the thing. Ray doesn’t need cheering up or any bullshit like that. Macy left three years ago, and Ray’s moved on. He knows now that the split was good for both of them. If they had stayed together, they would have wound up hating each other. At least this way they still have a chance at being friends. 

“How was it? Seeing her again?” Nate asks instead of saying some encouraging bullshit. So Ray doesn’t say the first thing that comes to mind, which would make light of the question. He answers honestly, but he looks up at the ceiling as he answers because he can’t look at Nate while baring his fucking soul or whatever. 

“It was good. We didn’t talk about the Dogs or anything like that, but it felt good to talk to her again.” He’s thought about her over the years. Wondered if she was doing okay, if she was happy. Because she was his friend first. 

“Getting closure will be good for you.” Nate’s quiet as he says it, and Ray feels his face twist at that. He’s not sure if talking to Macy has brought him closure, he’s not sure if he ever really needed it, but he’s not going to argue the point. 

“What about you, sir? Do you need to seek closure with anyone?” Ray keeps his tone light and a little mocking, just in case Nate wants to keep his private life private, and he looks away from the ceiling to see Nate smiling. Over the past couple of years, he’s learned the little nuances to most of Nate’s smiles. The truly happy ones, the one he wears in a firefight, the little tired smile when he’s overworked, the one he tries to hold back whenever Ray says or does something idiotic…this smile is new. It’s almost _sad_. 

“I’ve dedicated my life to the Dogs. It never seemed fair to start something with someone that I can’t be honest with.” _Oh shit_. Ray’s been rambling about his one failed relationship, and Nate’s actually sworn off relationships.

“Don’t sweat it, homes. You’re too pretty to be alone forever.” The sad little smile on Nate’s face shifts into something brighter, something a little warmer, and Ray feels like he’s won something. (Like when he won the debate competition freshman year and everyone had yelled his name, and his mom had made him a cake that night. It’s an awesome feeling.)

“What are our plans for tomorrow?” Ray lets his chair settle back on all four legs, and he moves his elbows up onto the table as he quickly thinks over what he discussed with Macy before the nurses kicked him out. 

“I’m gonna go sign Macy’s release forms, and she’s got a friend coming to get her at eleven. We can leave after I sign the papers, unless you’ve got another meeting planned?” Nate slowly shakes his head, which is kind of a relief. Ray wants to get back to Mathilda before anything disastrous happens. He’s not even sure who’s in charge while they’re away. (It’s probably Mike. He’s the only one responsible enough to be in charge. Brad would just threaten to shoot everyone.)

“What time are you going to the hospital?” Nate’s stacking up their dirty dishes now, to make it easier for whoever comes to collect them, so it’s nearly time for Ray to head over to his own room.

“Probably around nine. You gonna stay here or ride along?” Ray’s on his feet now and twisting to pop his back, but he can still see the way Nate pauses and looks down at the floor as he thinks it over. 

“It’ll save time if I ride with you. I’ll be ready to go by nine.” Ray shuffles his feet as he leaves the room, and he calls out a goodnight before walking out into the hallway. He stays put until he hears the door lock and then he moves to his room next door. 

His bag is still lying in the middle of the floor where he tossed it, and he scoops it up as he walks through the room. Taking a shower sounds tempting, but he always feels gross after sleeping in a hotel bed so he decides to save the shower for in the morning. So he dumps his duffel on the sink counter in the bathroom, brushes the taste of onion rings out of his mouth, and strips down to his boxer briefs before zombie walking back into the main room. He sets the alarm on his phone for seven-thirty, creates a reminder to order breakfast for him and Nate, and then places the phone on the bedside table before pulling the sheets back. He collapses against the mattress and lets out a deep sigh, because it feels like the day has dragged on for an eternity, and he wiggles around until he finds a comfortable position. 

He thinks about the note he’d found taped to the fridge door, _we both knew this was coming_ written in Macy’s looping scrawl, and then sees the dark and resigned look in Nate’s eyes as one side of his lips tipped up into a smile. It’s the last thing he sees before it’s lights out.

**.xXx.**

“I know how to order room service, Ray.” He takes a right turn and then looks at the passenger side of the jeep, and Nate’s going through the bag that he’s got in the floorboard.

“Are you still on about that? Because we both know that you would have forgotten to order anything, and I’m not going to have you fainting on me because you’ve got low blood sugar.” That makes Nate look over at him, but Ray’s focusing on driving now and doesn’t meet the mildly annoyed glare that’s trained on the side of his face. 

“I don’t need a nanny.” Ray’s perfectly aware that Nate can take care of himself, he’s an adult and has kept himself alive for this long, but everyone needs a little help sometimes. 

“I’m more like a butler at this point.” He’s in the hospital parking lot now, so he can glance over at Nate without worrying about rear-ending someone. “Think about it seriously for a moment. I drive you around, I cook and bring you food, and I watch your back because I’m your lifelong bodyguard. I’m your butler.”

“You decided to take on the commitment?” Ray hasn’t had enough caffeine yet to be properly awake, so it takes him a moment to figure out what the hell Nate is talking about. By the time he remembers that brief little convo the night before, the jeep’s parked and he’s just staring out of his windshield. 

“Someone’s gotta keep you alive. Why not me?” He’s grinning like a manic when he looks over at Nate, and he knows he looks like a maniac because he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the rearview mirror. Nate’s smile is all sunny and shit, so the manic look clearly doesn’t bother him that much. “Now, can we please get out of this rust bucket so I can go sign even more papers?”

“You want me to go in with you?” Ray’s already got his door open and one foot braced against the pavement, and he looks over his shoulder to meet Nate’s confused expression. 

“Yeah. It might take longer than I want, and I’m not gonna leave you waiting in the car for however long this takes. That’s cruel and unusual, dude. So get out of the jeep and come on,” Ray says and finishes falling out of the seat. 

“I thought I was the boss,” he hears Nate mutter as the passenger door opens. Ray stays leaning against the driver door as he waits for Nate to reach him, and he starts walking once they’re side-by-side. 

“I can call you sir some more if you want.” The hospital is quiet when they step inside, and Ray remembers the way to the elevator without too much thought. 

“Nate’s fine.” The elevator doors close with just the two of them inside of it, and Ray leans back against the wall as he smiles. There’s a joke on the tip of his tongue, something about how Nate really is fine, but he holds it in. It’s too early for him to jokingly hit on his boss, even though Nate usually takes the jokes in stride. 

There’s a nurse waiting on the elevator when the doors open, and she looks vaguely familiar. Ray just smiles as she glares at him, so she might be one of the nurses he dealt with the day before. Most of the nurses’ faces are kind of a blur, and he doesn’t feel like forcing his memory to recall this particular woman’s face. So he just smiles and walks around her, and he can feel Nate walking behind him even if he can’t hear him. Seriously, the guy moves too quietly. Ray’s considered putting a bell on him, but he doesn’t think Nate would go for something like that. He’s still trying to mentally construct a convincing argument when they reach Macy’s room, and she’s already awake and sitting up in her bed when they walk inside. 

“Ray! You brought me a present?” Macy’s teasing grin matches his as she looks over his shoulder at Nate, and Ray rocks up onto his toes a little as he slings an arm around Nate’s shoulder and bumps their hips together. 

“Sorry, Mace, but I’m keeping this one.” Nate smoothly rolls his shoulders and dislodges Ray’s arm, and he steps closer to the hospital bed with a friendly smile on his face. 

“I’m Nate. I own Bravo,” is how Nate decides to introduce himself. Macy knows that Bravo is more than just a nightclub, but her smile doesn’t change at all as she reaches out to shake Nate’s hand. Her hand is still wrapped up in Nate’s when she leans to the side to meet Ray’s eyes, and he almost laughs at the pink color flooding her cheeks. 

“You never told me your boss was hot.” Ray laughs while Nate clears his throat and takes a step back, and Macy’s still smiling with a slight blush on her cheeks as Ray drops into the chair at her bedside. 

“I’d never objectify my boss in such a way. Nate’s way more than just a pretty face,” Ray says and kicks his feet up onto the edge of the bed. 

“He’s also standing right here.” Nate cuts his eyes over at Ray as he says it, and if Ray didn’t know better he’d think that Nate was uncomfortable. Nate’s too cool to be uncomfortable though. He actually looks a little more relaxed than usual, but that could be because of the casual clothes. He’s wearing jeans and a plain gray tee shirt instead of a suit for once, and the casual clothes make him look years younger. 

“He’s definitely got more than just a pretty face,” Macy says and lets her eyes sweep over Nate. Okay, so his jeans do fit pretty well and he’s filling out his tee shirt in a very aesthetically pleasing way, but Ray still rolls his eyes. 

“Stop objectifying the guy who signs my paychecks,” Ray says and nudges Macy’s knee with the toe of his boot. Macy’s lips part like she’s about to say something else, but Nate’s phone dings before she can say anything else. Ray knows that ding, knows that it’s a text and not a call, and Nate pulls his phone out and quickly scans the screen. 

“Sorry, but I’ve got to make a quick call. Ray, I’ll be at the jeep. It was nice meeting you, Macy.” Nate’s already starting to back out of the room, but Macy calls out his name before he can make a quick getaway. Nate’s a nice guy at heart, so he stops in the doorway and looks away from his phone to give Macy his full attention. 

“I don’t know shit about your other business and I don’t want to know, but you better keep Ray safe. If anything happens to him, I’ll come after you first.” Ray groans and hides his face in his hands, so he can’t see Nate’s reaction to Macy’s not-so-subtle threat. 

“I can assure you, I won’t let anything happen to Ray.” Nate sounds so serious, like he’s making an oath or some shit, and Ray drops his hands to take a look around. Macy’s smiling in a self-satisfied way, and Nate nods in her direction once before turning around and leaving the room. Ray leans up in his chair to watch Nate walk down the hallway, and he turns back to face Macy once Nate is out of sight. 

“What the fuck was that?” Macy leans back against her pillow, still smiling, and crosses her arms. 

“Just lookin’ out for you, Ray-Ray.” He wants to tell her that he doesn’t need anyone to look out for him, that he’s a badass motherfucker that can handle himself just fine, but the words get stuck in his throat. “So, does everyone in your little gang look like they could model on the side or is he just special?”

In the end, it only takes about twenty minutes for a nurse to come by with Macy’s release papers. The cut on her head isn’t too bad and the mild concussion shouldn’t give her too many problems, and Ray’s finishing up when a tall blonde woman walks into the room. Macy introduces her as Kayle, a friend from work, and they talk for a few minutes while they wait for Macy to get the all-clear. Once she’s told that she can leave, Ray tells her goodbye and prepares to leave. Then Macy asks if they can keep touch, and he gives her his number before leaning down to give her a hug. It’s not the same as when they were dating, but feeling Macy’s arms wound around his neck is familiar. Maybe he did need closure. All he knows is that walking out of her room doesn’t hurt, and he’s humming to himself as he walks out of the hospital. 

“All good?” Nate asks as he gets closer to the jeep. He’s leaning against the front of the jeep, because the jeep’s locked and Ray has the keys. He’s not on the phone though, and Ray doesn’t ask how long he’s been waiting on Ray to get his ass outside.

“Yeah, her friend showed up early so she’s headed home. And so are we.” Ray holds up his keys and gives them a little shake, and Nate pushes off the front bumper and moves over to the passenger side. It takes less than a minute for Ray to get the doors unlocked and then to get the jeep started, and he relaxes into his seat as he pulls out into the morning traffic. 

“Haldane’s guys will be at Bravo in two days,” Nate announces as Ray starts to roll down the highway. He grabs his sunglasses out of the cup holder and slips them on, and he tips his head back so he can still see the road while he grins over at Nate. 

“Just in time for the Friday night crowd!” He’s got the radio on now, blaring some oldies, and his hands tap out the rhythm against the steering wheel. Nate’s turned away from him and looking out of his open window, but Ray can see enough of the side of his face to tell that he’s smiling. Really smiling too. None of that sad smiling bullshit. 

“Focus on getting us home, Ray.” Nate doesn’t even have to raise his voice to be heard, and Ray snaps off a salute even though Nate can’t see him. Things at home might be crazy at the moment, but Ray can’t wait to get back. Because he’s got a good feeling about everything. He’s not sure how, but everything’s going to work out. It has to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I told a small lie. Macy did make a reappearance, but it was a brief reappearance and having her in this chapter served a purpose. I wanted to give Ray a reason to talk about his past and how he got involved with everything, and Macy was the best way to do that. It also gave Ray some closure, so there’s that. 
> 
> The gang breaking up was planned from the start of this story. It’s actually the first idea I had, along with who stayed and who left. If there’s any questions about anything, I’d be more than happy to answer them! Oh, and this chapter hinted at new characters being brought in. So expect to see some characters from _The Pacific_ in the next several chapters. (If you’ve never seen _The Pacific_ , don’t worry about it. You don’t need to know anything about the show to read this story, but you should still watch it because it’s amazing. Soul crushing at times but still amazing.)
> 
> I think that’s everything I wanted to address. Again, if there’s any confusion or if I’m not explaining things enough, just let me know. And thanks again to everyone reading!


	4. Cracked And Bleeding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to have this out sooner, but I had to work on my other stories first. Hopefully, the next update will be a lot quicker. Also, this chapter is a little shorter than the previous two chapters but I think it's still a decent length. 
> 
> Happy reading!

**2018 June 22**

“I can’t feel my legs. Nate? Do I still have legs?” Ray’s in Nate’s office, lying sprawled out on the surprisingly comfy couch, and his entire body feels like one giant bruise. He can hear Nate’s chair creaking, which means that Nate is probably bracing himself against the desk and leaning forward to get a look at Ray, but Ray’s feeling too tired to peel his eyelids open.

“Yes, Ray, you still have legs.” Ray lets out a long groan and then stretches his legs out, and he can literally feel cramps starting in his calves. He’s also pretty sure that there’s a blister on the ball of his left foot that he’ll have to pop at some point, and he’s really not looking forward to that disgusting task. 

“Alright, be honest with me, boss man. Did you send me out scouting because I sang for the last two hours on our drive back from Vegas? Because if that’s the reason, I’ll never sing George Jones again. I promise.” Ray lifts his right leg and laces his fingers behind his knee so he can try to pull the muscles out before the worst of the cramps can settle in, but the shift makes his right shoulder throb hotly. He really can’t win. 

“No, I sent you out scouting because Brad assured me that you were the best at it.” That’s a fair point. Ray’s usually very good at sneaking around without getting caught. “And because you made me spill my milkshake.”

“Bullshit! That fucker cut me off, and I reacted swiftly to ensure that we didn’t get smeared across the interstate. Your milkshake was just an unfortunate casualty.” Just thinking about the small pout on Nate’s face as he looked down at his spilled milkshake is enough to make Ray smile, even though it feels like his legs are rebelling from the rest of his body. “If I buy you another milkshake, will you send someone else next time?”

“I’ll consider it.” Ray hums, because that’s good enough for him, and then slowly lowers his leg back onto the couch. 

Ray’s still lounging on the couch ten minutes later when there’s a knock on the door, and he groans out a quiet no because he knows that sharp knock. Three quick solid taps? That’s definitely Brad. He can hear Nate laughing quietly as he calls out for Brad to come in, and Ray stays right where he is because he doesn’t have to jump up for Brad. So Ray doesn’t even open his eyes as Brad walks in, but he can hear other footsteps. Several pairs of footsteps. He knows that Walt is at the house, getting some sleep before joining Brad later for their own job, and Q-Tip and Christeson aren’t going to show up until they absolutely have to. 

“Ray, why are you down here bothering the LT?” Brad asks. Ray raises a hand in the air and rolls his wrist until his middle finger is pointing straight up into the air, and his left foot spasms a little. 

“Ray’s catching up on some rest. He was spotted in Delta territory last night,” Nate explains for him. Actually, he was spotted in Delta territory at about three that morning. 

“Fuckers chased me for two hours and nearly ran me down in some ugly ass SUV. I lost them around King Street. Bad news? Godfather’s gone on a recruiting spree and has about five soldiers for every one of us, at least. Good news? They’ve got the aim of Stormtroopers,” Ray reports. 

“You hurt?” Brad doesn’t sound concerned or even worried, he sounds like he’s asking if the coffee pot is working, and Ray finally turns his head to the side and opens his eyes. 

“I think my legs are gonna fall off, and I’ve got some bruises from being lightly bumped by a speeding vehicle. Other than that, I’m fucking peachy, homes. Who are your friends?” There’s four dudes standing behind Brad and looking at Ray like they’re trying to make sense of him, and Ray wishes them luck with that. Because he’s been told that it’s impossible to make sense of him. Mostly by Brad. Occasionally by others. 

“Haldane’s guys. They’re here to help,” Brad says with false cheer. Oh yeah. When Ray and Nate got back to Mathilda, Nate immediately called a meeting. All seven of them got together in Nate’s office, and Nate told them all about his meeting with Haldane and about how he was sending a few people over to help them out. Looks like they arrived just in time for the night shift. 

“Do you get shot at a lot?” one of the new guys asks. He’s kinda tall with curly hair and standing in front of the others, and Ray tilts his head even though he’s still lying down. 

“Define a lot.” Before, Ray didn’t really get shot at all that much. Just every once in a while. The past several weeks? He’s been shot at more than he’s really comfortable with. 

“I’m gonna take that as a yes,” a different guy drawls. That’s definitely not an east coast accent. Hey! Maybe it’s another hick! Ray can’t wait to tell Walt the good news. 

“Names?” Nate asks. The four guys straighten up a little at the sound of Nate’s voice, but Ray won’t give them shit for it because Nate has that effect on people. 

“Leckie,” the first guy who had spoken says. Leckie? What kind of name is that?

“Hoosier,” the second guy says in that same drawl. Ray takes back his thoughts about Leckie’s name, because _Hoosier_?

“Chuckler,” says a guy who’s nearly as tall as Brad. 

“Runner,” says the last, and shortest, of the four new guys. Okay, so they’re all lacking in the name department. Still, the names are distinctive enough that they should be easy to remember. Besides, it’s not like Ray’s people have any room to talk. They’re going to be introduced to a guy commonly known as Q-Tip soon. 

Nate makes a quiet sound in the back of his throat, which pulls Ray out of his thoughts, and he twists his head enough to see Nate looking down at his watch. Yeah, it’s about time for them to get the club ready to open. It’s Friday, so the club’s going to be packed. Nate looks up and around at the room, and Ray already knows what’s coming. Looks like his downtime is officially over.

“Ray, take Brad upstairs. Stafford and Christeson should be here soon, and you need to update them on the situation. I’ll get our new guys squared away and then send them up to you,” Nate says with a pointed look in Ray’s direction. Hey! Ray knows what that look means! Since Nate never really leaves his office and Brad’s got other shit to do tonight, that means Ray’s in charge upstairs. 

“You got it, sir,” Ray says and forces himself to his feet. He presses a hand against his side as he blows out a breath, because standing up straight hurts a little more than he’d been expecting, and he flashes his widest grin at the new guys before walking out the door. 

Brad doesn’t say anything as they make their way upstairs, which Ray is happy for. Mostly because Ray has to actually brace a hand against the wall and walk slowly because his left ribcage is absolutely fucking killing him, and there’s a bit of a limp because of the overworked muscles on his calves. When they make it into the main part of the club, Ray heads straight for the Office Bar and snags a barstool to drag around behind the bar. He drops down onto it with a quiet groan and leans his elbows against the top of the bar, and he can see Brad looking him over out of the corner of his eye.

“Lightly bumped?” Brad asks after a moment. 

_Ray can see a familiar building up ahead, one he knows that has a wall halfway down the alley that he can scale with no problem, and he forces his legs to go just a little bit faster. The SUV that spotted him is gaining on him though, and it’s going to cut him off if he doesn’t hurry the fuck up. He’s gotta get across the street and down that alley, **now**. _

_He hooks a hard left, hears the sound of rubber screeching on asphalt as the wheels are turned, and the edge of the front bumper rams into his left side. The hit sends him flying forward, his right shoulder and arm scrape against the rough bricks of a building, and he pushes off the wall as he keeps running. Headlights are shining on him as he runs, and he grits his teeth as he reaches the wall that cuts off the alley. Climbing it is more difficult than usual, his ribs are screaming and his arm is on fire, but his boots run up the wall and his fingers catch the edge. He hefts himself up and over, and he falls to the ground on the other side._

_There’s no time for him to wait around. There’s always a chance they’ll find a quick way around and corner him, so he takes off running again. He sticks to back alleys and dark corners, routes in between where most people don’t bother to look, until he finally crosses back into southern territory. Still, he doesn’t feel safe until he’s back in his own home. The sun’s coming up by the time he stumbles into the bathroom, but the house is quiet so Walt is either asleep or out doing his own job._

_Most of his body is throbbing with some kind of pain as he strips out of his clothes, and the shirt he’d been wearing gets tossed into the “ruined clothes” basket. All things considered, he got lucky. His left ribcage is dark red, slowly getting darker, but he’ll just be really bruised. His right arm, however, isn’t looking too good. The tee shirt he’d been wearing was thin, and the force of being hit by an SUV and then sliding along a brick wall has really left a mark. The top of his right arm, above the slight curve of his bicep, is a mess. The skin has been completely scraped raw, and he’s got blood running all down his arm._

_The shower he takes is scalding hot, even though the heat makes his arm sting, but it helps his tense muscles a little. When he finally drags himself out of the tub, he has to pull out the first-aid kit from under the sink. Only a few moments after taping on the bandage, he can already see a faint blush of blood seeping through. So he rolls his eyes, tapes down another couple of gauze squares, and then wraps an entire thing of white bandages around his arm. With all that through, he goes to pass out to get some sleep before he has to report in to Nate that night._

“Yeah, just a little bump,” Ray says and nods. Brad jabs his fingers into Ray’s left side, and Ray might have screamed if the pain hadn’t knocked the breath out of him. His hands have to grip the edge of the bar to keep himself from falling off the stool, and he glares over at Brad as he struggles to get his breathing under control. “Motherfucker! What the fuck?!”

“Did you lie to the LT, Ray?” Brad’s face hasn’t really changed, but his eyes keep flicking all over Ray’s body. Like he’s looking for other injuries. 

“No, I did not, because I’m fine. Just don’t fucking poke me like that again. That was not cool,” Ray says and points a finger right at Brad’s face. Brad wants to say something else, Ray can tell, but he’s interrupted by the sound of Q-Tip and Christeson walking inside. 

After that, Ray tells the three of them about his job the night before. He knew the warehouse that Godfather liked to use to gather his soldiers and give his speeches, and they’d all had a feeling that Godfather had been recruiting since the split. So Ray’s job was to go check the warehouse out and see if there were any new faces hanging around. The warehouse was about as far North into the city as a person could go, but Nate had trusted that Ray could get that far undetected. Which was exactly what Ray had done. He’d made it to the warehouse, and he’d even lucked up and caught them in the middle of a meeting. He hadn’t been able to hear what was being said, but he’d been able to do a headcount. There were even more soldiers on Godfather’s side now than before the split, and the numbers were worrying. 

Instead of hanging around to get caught, Ray started making his way back through the city. He hadn’t taken his jeep, because everyone who knew him knew what he drove, and he was pretty quick on his feet. Everything had been going fine until a couple of soldiers that knew Ray spotted him. The chase had started on foot, with Ray yelling insults over his shoulder because he knew all the assholes chasing him and all the reasons why they hadn’t ever made it into the top ten. He’s guessing at least one of them called in backup, because that’s when the SUV showed up. Ray still managed to get away alive though, so he’s calling it a successful mission. Job well done. 

“The K35 guys are here too,” Brad says when Ray finishes. Ray nods to back him up, and the news is delivered just in time because the door leading into the basement opens so that the four new guys can walk into the bar. “I’m going down to talk to Nate, and then I’m taking Mike and Walt to meet up with Poke. That means you’re in charge tonight, Ray.”

“And I will be instituting corporal punishment!” Ray yells at Brad’s back. The new guys are grinning, so it’s good to know that they can take a joke. 

Ray sits up on his stool while handling the introductions, and the new guys definitely look a little confused after hearing Q-Tip’s name. They roll with it though, and Ray actually feels relieved when they all say that they’ve bartended before. It’ll definitely make his night a whole lot easier. So after shooting the shit for a couple of minutes and getting used to each other, they split into pairs to start getting things ready. Chuckler and Runner go with Christeson over to the Main Bar, Q-Tip happily makes his way over to the DJ Booth, and Ray waves Leckie and Hoosier to his side of the Office Bar before leaning forward to brace his weight on his elbows on the bar top. 

“Uh, no offense, but you don’t look so good,” Hoosier says as he looks closely at Ray’s face. Ray is still feeling a bit of stabbing pain every time he inhales, and every time he exhales, from the little jab that Brad gave his ribs. 

“Now is that any way to get on your new boss’s good side?” Ray asks with a smile. Hoosier smiles back as he leans an elbow on the bar next to where Ray is sitting, and Ray can hear Leckie settling in on his other side. 

“Thought the guy downstairs was the boss?” Leckie asks him. Ray turns his head to look at the other guy, and his smile isn’t quite as easy-going as Hoosier’s but it’s still pleasant enough. Ray doesn’t have the urge to punch him, so that’s something. (Some of the old officers used to give the soldiers some kind of condescending smile that always made Ray want to punch them right in their stupid smug faces.)

“Oh, Nate’s the Boss. Capital B. Me? I’m just a lowly soldier, but I’m the boss in here tonight.” Ray used to have a lot of bosses, but now? Now he only has…three. There’s Nate, then Brad and Mike, and Ray’s technically the top soldier because he’s been around the longest. “What about you guys? What’d you fuckers do to get sent out here?”

“Who says we did anything wrong?” Leckie’s tone is almost defensive, and Hoosier laughs on Ray’s other side. So Ray forces himself to sit up completely straight so he can see both of them, and it looks like Leckie is trying to tell Hoosier something through the power of expressive eyebrows. 

“Lucky’s got a bad habit of pissin’ off officers,” Hoosier finally drawls out. 

“Only the pretentious ones with sticks up their asses,” Leckie says quickly. Ray’s trying not to laugh, because he knows it’ll just hurt him, but a few quiet chuckles slip out anyway. 

“Don’t worry, Nate’s alright for an officer. You can mouth off at Brad if you want, he’ll either respect you more for it or just shoot you, and Mike will give you the Stare of Disappointment that’ll just make you feel like a puppy killer.” Yeah, there’s not many of them left, but at least the good ones are still around. 

“Those are really the only officers left?” Leckie asks. Hoosier is just looking at him with his cheek pressed against his fist, and Ray looks between them before slowly nodding. 

“That’s it. Just a lieutenant and two sergeants. Then four soldiers.”

“And you really think you’re gonna make it?” Hoosier is the one asking this time, and Ray wishes that he could read the looks between Leckie and Hoosier. Because they’re clearly having a conversation that he isn’t a part of with just a few nuanced facial expressions, and Ray hates being left out of the loop. Especially since he’s sitting between them. 

“I think that if anyone can stand against Godfather and win, it’s Nate,” Ray answers. He’s surprised at just how honest his answer is too. He left because he didn’t want to follow Godfather after he had that girl killed, but he’s staying with Nate because he actually believes in Nate. Believes that he’ll do what’s right and will lead them through this. 

“What the hell? I’ve always liked rootin’ for the underdogs,” Hoosier says and nods once in Ray’s direction. 

“We already came all this way,” Leckie adds. 

“Yeah, yeah, enough chit-chat. We’ve got work to do,” Ray says and slides off the stool. They’ll be opening up soon, so it really is time to get to work. They can talk more later.

**.xXx.**

Last call is right before two in the morning, and forty minutes later the club is empty except for the bartenders and the DJ. They’re all crowded around the Main Bar, laughing and talking shit about the people they’d seen, and it almost feels like a normal night. Leckie and Hoosier had handled themselves just fine, and Christeson said that Chuckler and Runner were better than Chaffin. (Probably because Chaffin got his amusement from pissing off customers from time to time.) They’re still laughing when Ray’s phone buzzes once in his pocket, which means a text, and he pulls it out to give it a quick scan.

_Meet downstairs before you head out_

It’s from Nate, because Nate never leaves before they do. Ray pushes his phone back into his pocket and then tells the others to take off. When Q-Tip and Christeson just give him a look, he promises that he’ll make sure to lock up. The new guys leave first, back to the motel they’re staying in until they find somewhere else to stay, and Ray walks across the main part of the club. He takes his time going down the stairs, because he did a lot of moving around throughout the night, and he makes sure that his breathing is steady before opening the door to Nate’s office and stepping inside. 

“We talking business or did you just miss me?” Ray asks with a grin as he walks over to Nate’s desk. Nate looks away from his computer and up at Ray’s face, and that is definitely a serious look. Nate’s eyes are dark, and his lips are pinched into a thin line. “Shit, did something happen? Is everyone okay?”

“Brad, Walt, Mike, and Poke are fine. I want to know why you lied to me, Ray.” Ray can feel his brows drawing together as he thinks it over, because he hasn’t lied to Nate. He never lies to Nate. He actually tells Nate the truth more than he probably should, even if that truth usually sounds like he’s just joking around. 

“Don’t know what—”

“You said you weren’t badly hurt.” Nate doesn’t yell as he cuts him off, but Nate’s never had to yell to get a person’s attention. Ray’s mouth shuts with a quiet click as his jaw locks, because he’s just now realizing that Brad probably tattled on him to Nate. Which is just…rude. Doesn’t Bradley know the bro code? Part of that code is not tattling on him to the big boss.

“And I’m not. I’m just a little bruised, that’s all. No broken bones or anything,” Ray says truthfully. Nate’s face doesn’t change, not even when he sighs and then gets to his feet. Ray holds his position as Nate walks around the desk and then leans against the front of it, so that he’s standing directly in front of Ray, but they’re on the same eye-level since Nate is leaning against the desk. 

“Show me,” Nate says and crosses his arms. Nate’s tone doesn’t leave any room for arguments, but Ray still hesitates. He knows that if he refuses, Nate will let it go. Because Nate would never force him to do anything that would make him uncomfortable, and that’s why Ray decides to grip the bottom of his shirt and expose his left ribcage. 

“It looks worse than it really is,” Ray says as Nate’s eyes move over his side. Ray twists his head so that he can get a good look, and he winces a little at the sight. Most of his ribcage has turned nearly black, the edges are a mixture of purples and deep reds, and the whole area is swollen. He’s sure that nothing is broken though. 

“You need to go see Doc.” Nate’s still looking at his side, so Ray drops his shirt and waits for Nate to meet his eyes again. 

“I’m fine. If I thought I wasn’t, I would’ve already went to Doc and I sure as hell wouldn’t have bartended tonight.” Nate’s eyes move back down to his side, even though Ray’s shirt is hiding the large bruise, and Ray bends his knees to duck down and try to catch Nate’s eyes. “Nate? I’m okay.”

“How were the new guys tonight?” Nate asks as he finally looks away from Ray’s side. Ray starts to relax as he gives a quick report, which is mostly just that everything ran smoothly. The guys had known what they were doing, and there hadn’t been any fuck-ups all night. “Alright, you can get out of here. Go get some rest, Ray.”

“Aye, aye, sir,” Ray quips. Nate pushes off the front of the desk, and Ray can see his next movements clearly but doesn’t have time to stop him. Nate reaches out to clap Ray’s arm, like he’s done hundreds of times over the past couple of years, but the touch is against the top of Ray’s _right_ arm. Right over the bandage that’s wrapped around his arm. Ray bites the inside of his cheek to keep from making a sound as his body instinctively flinches away, and his eyes are clenched shut so he can’t see Nate’s expression. 

“Ray? Ray? What happened?” He can feel one of Nate’s hands cupping his elbow, because he’s just wearing a tee shirt and it’s clear that his elbow is undamaged, but Ray’s still slightly bent over and breathing shallowly. 

“Totally.” Two quick breaths. “Okay.” One slow breath. “Sir.”

“Don’t sir me,” Nate says absently as Ray finally straightens up. He’d been careful all night to make sure that no one even so much as brushed against that part of his arm, which had not been easy, but it looks like he won’t be able to hide this injury anymore. 

“It’s just a scratch,” Ray tries. The narrowing of Nate’s eyes lets Ray know that he isn’t buying it, and Ray can feel Nate lightly pulling on the bottom of his sleeve. Ray nods, reluctantly, and Nate carefully rolls his sleeve up. 

“Just a scratch? Ray, you’re bleeding.” He looks over at that, and there is a little bit of fresh blood showing through the bandage. _Fuck_. It’s probably from all the movement. “Go sit on the couch. I’ll get my first-aid kit.”

“I know you’re probably not going to believe a word that I say at this point, but it really isn’t all that bad,” Ray says after dropping down onto the couch. Nate’s behind his desk and opening a drawer, and Ray watches as he walks over to the couch with a plain white box in his hands. 

“You’re right. I don’t believe a word that you’re saying.” Nate carefully sits down on Ray’s right side, and Ray’s just glad that his rolled-up sleeve is still covering the top of his shoulder. Because he can already see a little bit of guilt in Nate’s eyes, and he knows that look will only get worse if Nate sees the scar left behind from the graze that Ray got while he was Nate’s “bodyguard.”

Nate’s careful as he unwinds the bandage wrapped around Ray’s upper arm, and he carefully peels the gauze off. There’s an area on Ray’s arm, a little over four inches long and maybe three inches across, that’s scraped raw. Barely any skin at all. It’s just oozing blood and showing flashes of pink, and it hurts like a bitch to move his arm at all. Nate’s eyes close for a moment when he gets his first look, and that is why Ray didn’t tell him the full extent of his injuries. 

“I know what you’re thinking, but you’re wrong. You asked me to do that job, and I accepted. This? This ain’t on you. This is on those motherfuckers that tried to run me over,” Ray says quickly. Because Nate’s the kind of guy that will blame himself for shit like this when he didn’t even do anything, except for ask Ray to do a job. Ray could have said no, but he didn’t. The blame is still on the people who actually injured him. 

“Try to hold still.” Ray rolls his eyes but does as instructed, and he only jumps a little when Nate starts to clean the area. Because it’s tender, and the ache seems to sink deep down past the muscle. After the wound is clean, Nate carefully starts to bandage him up again.

“Can you say something? All of the quiet is freaking me out,” Ray says as Nate’s wrapping a length of bandages around his arm.

“You can’t keep stuff like this from me, Ray. I need to know when you’re hurt, and how badly, if we’re going to make this work. What if no one had found out, and I sent you out on another job?” Ray’s turned his head so that he can look at Nate now, and Nate looks up after taping the bandage down to meet his eyes. 

“You can still send me on jobs. I can still be useful.” Something happens to Nate’s face, his eyes widen as his lips press tightly together, but he shakes his head before Ray can get a good read on him. It’s frustrating, because Ray’s gotten pretty good at reading Nate. Except for when he hides, which is really rare. Nate’s too open and honest to hide. 

“You can be useful without getting yourself killed.” Nate says the words while touching the bottom of the bandage, and his eyes do this kind of flashing thing when he says _useful_. Like the word itself is pissing him off. His tone had also been sharper than usual too. Definitely not a tone that he’s ever used with Ray before, and it makes Ray feel unsettled.

“Are you mad at me?” Ray hates the question the very second that it leaves his lips, but he can’t take it back. Because Nate looks mad, and now he sounds mad. So Ray had to do something to piss him off, right?

“Why would you…No, Ray, I’m not mad at you. I’m worried about you.” Nate’s looking right at him again, eye contact has always been a big thing with Nate, and it’s never bothered Ray before. Right now, he kind of wants to duck his head down and look away from the eyes that are staring intently at him. 

“Well, your worried-about-Ray tone sounds a lot like your someone-fucked-up tone. For future reference.” Ray has to resist the urge to shrug, he’s in enough pain as it is, and he suddenly realizes that Nate is still lightly touching his arm. His expression has smoothed out some though, and he looks a little more like his usual self.

“Go home, Ray. And take tomorrow off.”

“But-”

“You said Haldane’s guys handled themselves just fine, and Walt can take your place. We’ll see how you’re doing in a few days and move forward from there.” Nate’s tone is softer but still decisive, and Ray clenches his jaw as he nods and then gets to his feet. 

“Whatever you say, sir.”

He’s out of the room before Nate can say anything else, and he quickly locks up the club before going outside to his jeep. He’s not really mad at Nate, he’s not even sure if he can get mad at Nate, but he hates feeling useless. It almost feels like he’s letting everyone down, and he’s not even all that hurt! It’s just some bruising and missing skin! He’s been shot and still went to work the next night, so he doesn’t understand why Nate is making such a big deal out of this. Come to think of it, Nate saw him get shot and then watched him cook dinner! Now he’s getting all mother-hen on him because of some superficial shit?

By the time Ray pulls up in his driveway, his thoughts are still going around in circles. He just can’t seem to make sense of it, and continuing to think about it is only going to give him a migraine. So Ray decides to leave the unanswered questions alone as he walks inside the house, and he’s feeling too drained to bother showering. He’s got the next day off anyway, so he can just shower then. His feet drag across the floor as he makes his way to his room, and he only stays conscious long enough to kick off his boots and pull his jeans off. Then he’s lying face down on his bed and fast asleep.

**2018 June 27**

“Oh, shit. You’re actually still alive?” is the first thing Ray hears when he walks into the club Wednesday afternoon. Hoosier’s sitting at the main bar between Leckie and Brad, and Ray turns his head to glare at Walt.

“Did you tell everyone?” Ray hisses at Walt. 

When Ray told Walt that he’d been ordered to take last Saturday off, Walt had naturally asked why. Ray, being Ray, had told Walt it was none of his business. Then Walt had looked like someone told him that Christmas was canceled, and Ray caved. He told Walt the actual truth, like about how the SUV actually rammed him hard enough to slam him into the side of a brick building, but he didn’t think Walt was gonna skip off and tell everyone else!

“I didn’t know it was supposed to be a secret,” Walt answers with a shrug. 

“Leave Walt alone, Ray. The LT asked for an update on your health, and Walt told the truth. Do you remember how to tell the truth, Ray?” Brad’s tone is light and mocking, but Ray can tell that he’s carefully watching the way that Ray’s walking. He’s not limping anymore because his feet and legs are fine, and the dark bruises on his ribs are starting to fade a little. Kind of. 

“About as well as I remember how to shove my foot up-”

“Gents.”

“Dammit, Nate! Stop cutting me off!” Brad and Leckie both just raise a brow at Ray, both of which speak volumes about Ray’s stupidity, and Hoosier actually folds his arms on the bar top and buries his face in them to keep from laughing out loud. Ray can even see Walt tipping his head back and struggling not to laugh. “What I meant to say, sir, is that it’s so good to see you. You’re looking great, by the way. Go for another run this morning?”

“It’s good to have you back with us as well, Ray.” Walt finally cracks at that and starts laughing, and even Brad is smiling wide enough to show both rows of his teeth. 

“Well, boys, it looks like we missed something good.” Ray groans and hangs his head as Walt and Brad start talking to fill the others in, and he drags his feet over to the Main Bar and sits on the stool next to Brad. Mike’s standing next to Nate now, and the stragglers have joined them. Walt, Q-Tip, and Christeson are sitting next to Ray while Chuckler and Runner are sitting on the other side of Leckie. It’s officially a full house. 

Thankfully, the meeting is pretty short. The only incident has been when Ray got spotted in Delta territory, and no one else has crossed over to the northern side of the town. Their main problem now is figuring out if Delta guys are crossing over into their territory. It’s hard to tell since they don’t even know who all is in Delta now, not after Godfather’s recruiting spree, which could end badly for all of them. They know some faces, yeah, but there’s even more that they don’t know. Poke’s been trying to figure out who the new soldiers are, since he isn’t restricted to just one side of the city, but Godfather isn’t making it easy for him. 

So their orders for the moment are to keep their eyes open and to try not to go anywhere alone, which isn’t a problem for most of them. Ray and Walt live together, so they’re sort of always practicing the buddy system. Q-Tip and Christeson are rarely ever apart, and they’ve given their guest room to Chuckler and Runner. Brad’s always preferred to live alone, but he’s letting Leckie and Hoosier stay at his house. Mike’s been staying with Doc ever since Godfather told him he had to make a choice, and Doc chose Nate. (No hesitation whatsoever.) With that settled, Nate tells them to enjoy the rest of their week and sends them off.

“Nate! Can I have a minute?” Ray asks as everyone starts talking. Nate nods at him, says something to Mike, and then waves for Ray to follow him. Ray turns on his stool to face Walt and smiles as he says, “Be right back. Don’t run away with my jeep.”

“No one would run away with that thing!” Walt calls after him. Ray wants to throw an arm over his head with his middle finger raised high in the air, but he can’t. His ribs on the left side ache too much if he stretches his left arm out too much, and his right arm feels all tight and twisted up whenever he raises his arm any higher than his face. It’s been a real downer. 

“Feeling any better?” Ray’s just barely stepped into the office when Nate asks it, but Nate’s already standing behind his desk. 

“Do you want the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?” Nate looks up at that, and his cheek twitches like he wants to smile but he’s fighting it. 

“The truth would be preferable, yes.” Ray nods at that a little as he walks closer to the desk, and he drums the fingers of his left hand against the top of the desk. 

“Parts of my ribs are still a little purple, but the edges are this really gross looking green color. No more swelling though, and I’ve been doing these cool bendy exercises I found on YouTube,” Ray says first. He actually found a yoga channel, but he’s not saying that part out loud. Nate raises a brow, silently asking him to continue, and Ray rolls his eyes. “Arm is now scabbed over and itches like a motherfucker. No more bleeding though.”

“So you’re okay?” Nate asks, just to clarify a little more. 

“Yes, I am okay. Wanna do another check?” Ray asks with a little smile. He holds his arms out, palms facing forward at hip-level, and holds his smile as Nate’s eyes quickly sweep over him. 

“I’m going to trust you this time,” Nate decides. Ray’s small smile turns into a full-out grin, and he lets his arms fall back to his sides. 

“Does that mean I can come back to work? I’m going crazy being stuck at the house. I did the laundry yesterday, Nate. I’m even considering grocery shopping!” His statement gets the reaction he’d been hoping for. The tired and worried look on Nate’s face fades as he smiles, bright and wide, and Ray would pat himself on the back if it wouldn’t hurt too damned much. 

“We can’t have that, so I guess you can come back Friday.” Ray keeps grinning as he rocks back and forth on his heels, and Nate looks back down at his desk. “Now get out of here and don’t come back until Friday night.”

“You got it, sir!” There’s a small skip in his step as he leaves the office, and he starts laughing as Nate calls after him. 

“Don’t sir me!”

**2018 July 6**

Ray keeps the jeep running as he holds down the horn for a few seconds and then he adds a little bit of a beat to the loud blaring sound. He’s sure it’s loud enough to get the entire neighborhood’s attention, so he relaxes back in his seat and waits. It’s been three weeks since his little run-in with those Delta fucks, and he’s finally starting to feel normal again. The only bruises left on his ribs are a pale yellow color, and his arm is just a shiny pink color in some places. The biggest thing? He can move as much as he wants without hurting, which is why he’s dancing in his seat when Nate finally walks out of his front door. Ray lowers the volume as Nate locks his front door, and he lifts himself up to hang his upper half out of his rolled down window as he whistles.

“Lookin’ good, sir! Or can I call you bro?!” Nate pauses on his way to the jeep and looks down, and he’s close enough that Ray can see the way that his brows furrow as he realizes what he’s wearing. 

“I should go change,” Nate mumbles to himself. 

“What?! No way!” Nate looks up at him, and Ray holds his position of hanging out of the driver side window. “You spend the entire night in the basement anyway, so who cares if you’re not wearing a suit? Be comfortable, boss man!”

“Godfather preferred professionalism.” Ray’s first thought is that Godfather is an idiot, especially if he’s the reason that Nate’s been avoiding casual clothes. Don’t get him wrong, Nate can totally rock a suit. (Maybe a little too well at times.) He looks so much more at ease in jeans and a black tee shirt, and Ray thinks that he made a very good point. Nate stays in his office, so no one will even know that he’s not wearing one of his suits. 

“It’s a good thing you don’t for him anymore then, huh?” Nate’s smile is slow, just one side of his lips at first before he shakes his head and lets his smile stretch across his face. “That’s the spirit, homes! Now let’s get going!”

Ray bangs his open hand against his door before ducking back into his vehicle, and he drums his fingers against the steering wheel as Nate walks around the front of the jeep. He opens the passenger door and slides in with ease, doesn’t complain like Walt does when he has to slam the door twice before it actually closes, and then buckles his seatbelt. Once Nate is settled, Ray puts the jeep in reverse and starts backing out of Nate’s driveway. 

“Thank you for this, Ray. I appreciate it.” Nate’s voice sounds way too earnest, and Ray glances over at him before pulling onto the road. 

“It’s not like I’m giving you a kidney. I’m just giving you a ride because your car’s in the shop.” Ray takes a turn at a stop sign and then continues his wandering train of thought. “I’d probably give you a kidney though, if it were a life or death situation. You’d me owe for life, literally, so I could take off work whenever I wanted. Would you give me a kidney?”

“In some hypothetical situation where I’m the only person that can give you a kidney to keep you from dying?” See, that right there is why Ray likes Nate. Instead of telling him to shut up, Nate indulges his weird tangents. 

“Yes. You have the magic kidney, and I’m kicking in death’s door. You coughing it up or giving my eulogy?” Ray’s thumbs are tapping against the steering wheel along to the beat that’s coming out of the speakers, and he can see Nate out of the corner of his eye as he drives. 

“I thought I’d let Brad deliver your eulogy. I’m going to stand next to the coffin and look out into the distance,” Nate says and shifts down in his seat a little. Settling in, getting more comfortable. 

“What? No manful tears for my demise? Since you’re the one that let me die. All you had to do was give up a kidney!” Nate’s laughing as Ray makes a turn, which is something that Ray hasn’t heard all that often since they split away from Godfather. It’s good to know that Nate can still laugh. 

“Okay, so I’ll give you a kidney so that I don’t have to watch Brad struggle to say nice things about you,” Nate says with a little bit of laughter still in his voice. 

“And so that I don’t haunt your ass. I mean it, Nate. Let me die like that and let Brad talk shit at my funeral, and I’m gonna come back to haunt ya. Wake up in the morning looking for your running shoes? Mysteriously disappeared, possibly in the toilet. Bookcase? Rearranged, no more nice alphabetical order. Nice clean linens? Suddenly turned bright pink. Oh! And I’ll do that thing where it looks like the walls are bleeding, but I’ll only write with horrible grammar and obvious misspellings.” 

At this point, Nate’s laughing too hard to come up with any kind of counter-argument. Ray’s worried that he’s not sleeping enough and starting to lose it, but he keeps glancing over to look over at Nate while he laughs. At the way his eyes are closed and the way his nose scrunches up just a little bit, the way his whole body moves with the sound…he’s probably paying a little too much attention. Driving. He’s supposed to be completely focused on driving. 

“If that’s how you plan on spending your afterlife, I’ll have to keep you alive,” Nate says a few minutes later. 

“Loving that enthusiasm. You really know how to make a guy feel loved.” _Shit_. He’d meant to say _appreciated_ , but the other word just slipped out. Nate doesn’t know that it’s a slip though. He just lets out another quiet laugh, and Ray resists the urge to bang his head against the steering wheel. Mostly because he can’t keep driving if he gives himself a concussion. 

It’s just…at some point, some dumbass part of him decided to crush on his boss. Yeah, Nate’s his friend too, but he’s also still Ray’s boss. Friend, boss, it doesn’t really matter. Ray still shouldn’t be crushing on the guy, because that’s what it is. Just a stupid little crush that’s being stubborn about going away. He wishes he’d hurry up and get over it though, because it’s distracting. Like him going out of his way to make Nate smile or sometimes just looking at Nate for no other reason than just because. He didn’t even realize that he had the hots for his friend-slash-boss until last week, and it’d been such a stupid moment to have that kind of realization too. 

He’d brought Nate dinner one night, because Nate’s a genius that forgets to eat, and he’d been able to stick around and eat with him. The food itself had been simple. Chicken and mashed potatoes. They’d talked a little in between bites, mostly business stuff, and it’d been just like any other time Ray had brought dinner to the office. Everything had been so normal, so maybe that was why it caught him off guard. Ray had been loading the dirty dishes into his bag when he reached for Nate’s bowl, and Nate had grabbed his wrist before he could pull away. Ray had looked up, a little startled because Nate didn’t normally just grab him like that, and the serious look on Nate’s face had worried him at first. 

_“Thank you, for this. For looking out for me.” Nate’s fingers were loose around Ray’s wrist, Ray could easily pull away, but his thumb pressed against Ray’s pulse point as he kept eye contact._

_“Just trying to keep you alive.” It‘s what Ray always says when Nate thanks him, always said in a joking tone even though Ray is actually serious._

_“Ray, just once, take the compliment. Ready to try again?” Nate’s thumb is moving in slow circles, so small that he doesn’t even think Nate realizes he’s doing it, but it’s all Ray can focus on as he slowly nods. “Thank you for bringing me dinner, Ray.”_

_“You’re welcome, Nate.” Ray really hopes that Nate can’t feel the jump in his pulse as Nate smiles up at him, because that smile? It brightens Nate’s eyes and wipes away the lines of exhaustion, and Ray’s throat feels dry even though he just chugged an entire bottle of water._

Yeah, that’s when it hit him. Just one little moment, and it felt like Brad had smacked him in the face with one of his giant ass bear paws. The crush thing probably started way before that, but Ray was living in blissful ignorance before that moment. He still can’t believe that all it took was Nate touching his wrist, looking into his eyes, and _smiling_ for Ray to realize that he liked Nate a little more than he was supposed to like his friend-slash-boss. Any second some kind of whiny music from the nineties is going to start playing. Where’s a lake when he needs to stare morosely at something?

“I can assure you, Ray, that you’d be missed by all.” Nate’s voice pulls him back into the present, at just the right moment too. Ray lets out an over-the-top fake laugh as he pulls into the club’s parking lot, and he glares over at Nate after parking the jeep. The sun’s low in the sky, but the parking lot is empty because the club won’t be open for a few more hours. Nate just always shows up ridiculously early. 

“You damn right you’d miss me, or you’d at least miss my cooking,” Ray says as he falls out of his seat. He can hear Nate make a considering noise, a quiet kind of hum low in his throat, and they meet up at the back of the jeep and start towards the club. 

“That reminds me, can you make those little hamburgers again?” They’re halfway across the parking lot when Nate asks, and Ray’s just about to answer when he catches movement out of the corner of his eye. Nate’s on his right, but the movement is on his left. 

Nate must see it too, because they both stop walking at the same time. There’s two guys coming around the left side of the building, and Ray hears the scuffling sound of shoes on pavement to his right. Two more guys coming from the other side. As the groups of two get closer together, they glance at where Nate and Ray are standing and then further past them. Ray knows that Nate will keep an eye on the guys in front of them, so he looks over his shoulder. He sees exactly what he’d been expecting, but he would’ve been cool with being wrong this time. Four other guys are walking up behind them, and the looks on their faces are way too smug. Ray already wants to punch them. 

“Looks like the info was good. The boss does show up first,” one of the guys in front of them says. The rest of them laugh at the word _boss_ , which just helps confirm that these are some of the new Delta guys. Ray reaches out and taps the back of Nate’s hand, and he inclines his head towards the guys creeping up behind them when Nate looks at him. Nate nods, and Ray slowly turns around. Him and Nate are still standing shoulder to shoulder, but Nate’s facing the four guys standing next to the club and Ray’s facing the dudes standing between him and his jeep. 

“We don’t want any trouble,” Nate says as the guys get even closer. They’re being boxed in, and the only reason Ray doesn’t roll his eyes is because he knows that Nate means what he says. Nate doesn’t want any trouble, but these guys? That’s the only reason they’re here.

“Godfather has new rules for moving up the ranks. Wanna know what they are?” One of the guys in front of Nate asks it, but Nate doesn’t answer him. So a different guy answers instead. 

“If we kill one of your guys, we get to be a sergeant. Whoever kills you, gets to be a captain.” Nate leans to the side so that his shoulder presses against Ray’s, and Ray leans against the subtle pressure. 

“Is that all I’m worth?” Nate asks. His tone is calm, conversational, and Ray snorts out a quiet laugh. 

“At least you’re worth a captaincy. I’m only worth a sergeant’s position. How lame is that?” Ray winks at the guy closest to him as he asks it, and he grins when the guy curls his lip in obvious disgust. This is not going to end well. (For the other guys, that is. Nate’s a total badass, and Ray can hold his own.)

One of the guys in front of Nate starts talking again, something about how they found a guy that knows around what time Nate shows up at the club each day, but it’s a really boring speech. So Ray leans a little bit more of his weight against Nate’s shoulder and then rocks up onto his toes. Nate isn’t much taller than him, but it’s enough of a height difference that Ray has to lean up to sort of talk into Nate’s ear.

“Are we gonna listen to the whole villain monologue, or are we just going to start kicking ass? Or can we shoot them?” Ray keeps his voice low, but he’s not sure why he even bothered because the other guy doesn’t even slow down his speech. 

“Try to keep them alive. If one of them pulls a weapon, we’ll kill them all.” Nate, on the other hand, doesn’t bother lowering his voice at all. At least it gets that one guy to finally shut up, and Ray can see the four guys in front of him exchanging confused looks. What? Did they think Nate was going to see them and beg for mercy or some shit?

“That seems totally fair,” Ray says to Nate and falls back flat on his feet. He turns his full attention onto the guys in front of him and holds his arms out, and his left arm presses against Nate’s back as he smiles. “What are you motherfuckers waitin’ for?! Which one of you gets to upgrade to sergeant?!”

“Subtle, Ray,” Nate whispers just as Ray’s guys charge.

Things get a little crazy after that. Ray lays out the first guy that gets to him, one hit to the side of his head has him on the ground, and Ray feels his lip split as a fist connects with his face. Dude should’ve aimed better, because it takes a lot more than that to really hurt Ray. After that, it’s just careful blocking and throwing out hits whenever some idiot gets too close. At some point, him or Nate moved so that they’re fighting back-to-back. He can feel Nate shifting against him as he fights, and it feels like they’ve got a good rhythm going. Until some asshole pulls out a knife. 

“Shit! Pivot!” Somehow, Nate knows exactly what he’s talking about because they both turn at the same time.

Ray catches a punch to his stomach that was meant for Nate, but he hears one of the guys scream. He punches the dude in front of him in the throat, then in the temple, and finally looks over his shoulder. The guy who’d pulled the knife is rolling on the ground and holding his obviously broken arm, and Nate’s taking care of the last guy. Ray turns back around just to see the very last guy with his arm raised, and didn’t anyone ever teach him not to broadcast his moves like that? Seriously, Ray can see that punch coming from a mile away. It’s shameful, that’s what it is. 

All it takes is one step forward and a little bit of a twist, and he grabs the guy’s raised arm as he moves behind him. The guy yells as Ray pulls his arm behind him, and he maybe pulls a little too much because he hears a quiet crunching sound. Whoops. He might have just accidentally dislocated the guy’s shoulder. He hooks his other arm around the guy’s free arm before he can turn around, and he’s holding the guy still when Nate turns around and knocks him out. Just like that. Ray releases him so he can fall to the ground, and he takes in a few deep breaths as he looks around at the parking lot. 

Eight bodies, all breathing but unconscious, are lying spread out around the parking lot. Not bad. Ray shifts his focus to Nate, who’d apparently been doing the same thing as him, because their eyes meet at the same time. They don’t start any kind of staring contest though. They both instantly start looking at each other, to see how injured the other is. The right side of Nate’s jaw and some of his right cheek is starting to turn red, and Ray’s sure it’ll start swelling and turn darker later on. There’s a small cut next to his left eyebrow with a small trail of blood down the side of his face, but the rest of him looks okay. 

“Did you get hurt anywhere else?” For the first time, Ray takes stock of his own body. The left side of his bottom lip is throbbing, and he can taste blood when he licks over the cut there. His throat feels a little tender too, he remembers the second guy attempting to choke him, but he doesn’t think he got a good enough grip to leave a lasting bruise. Just a little tenderness. That last hit got him in the stomach, and he pokes the area but only feels a little bit of discomfort. 

“Nah, I’m good. What about you?” He can see Nate’s face and his arms, but that’s it. Nate’s lips pull down into an actual frown as he looks down, and Ray starts scanning his torso again to see if he missed something big. 

“One of them kicked me in the shin.” Nate’s pouting over a bruised shin?!

“Don’t do that! I thought you got stabbed or something!” Well, at least Nate’s smiling now. Ugh, no one should look that attractive right after getting into a brawl in the parking lot. 

“I’m going to call Poke, you should text the others and tell them to get here early. Do you have anything in the jeep to tie these guys up with?” Ray’s still thinking over everything that he has crammed into the back of the jeep as Nate gets his phone out, and he’s pretty sure that he’s got some rope. 

Since Nate is already talking, Ray gets his own phone out and types out a mass text as he walks over to his jeep. There’s some coiled rope under a tarp, and Ray grabs it and then gets a knife out of his glovebox. Nate’s still talking, then taking really long pauses as Poke responds, so Ray gets started on cutting off lengths of rope so he can tie the unconscious dudes up. By the time Nate finally hangs up, Ray’s tying the sixth dude. He waves Nate off when he tries to help, because there’s only two guys left and Ray’s hit his groove.

“Hey, look, it’s Brad! Hey, Brad!” Ray stands up and waves at the truck pulling into the parking lot after he finishes up with the last guy, and Nate shakes his head a little. Brad gets out of the truck first, and Leckie and Hoosier spill out of the passenger side a moment later. Brad pauses at the back of the truck, takes in the scene, and then looks right at Ray. 

“I thought you were joking,” Brad finally says. 

“What’d you tell them?” Nate asks him. Ray turns his head towards Nate and glances over at Brad, who still looks a little confused, and then focuses all of his attention on Nate. 

“Me and LT took out eight guys at Bravo. Team meeting now.” He’d kept it short and sweet, but he still wanted them to understand the seriousness of the situation. 

“You and him beat up eight guys?” Hoosier asks as the three of them walk a little closer. 

“No, they just decided it was nap time,” Ray drawls and then rolls his eyes. “Hell yeah we kicked their asses! Listen to this shit, Brad. Godfather’s telling all of the soldiers that if they kill one of us, they get to be sergeants. If they kill Nate, they get to be a captain! You believe that shit? We’re only worth a sergeant!”

“Godfather put us in the same category?” Brad asks. Ray thinks he’s taking the news very well. (Brad actually looks offended. Like he can’t believe that his life is worth the same as everyone else’s, except for Nate’s.)

“He’s gone full-on batshit, homes,” Ray says as seriously as he can manage. 

“Brad, wait here for Poke. Ray and I are going to go get cleaned up. Come down when the others get here.” Nate’s tone is even, but he sounds tired to Ray. Not that Ray is going to judge him for that, considering they just won a two-against-eight fight. 

Brad nods, and Ray salutes him before turning on his heel to follow after Nate. He’s the one that steps forward to unlock the door and lead them inside, but he falls back after that so Nate can lead the way. He keeps his eyes focused on Nate’s neck, right where his tee shirt curves around his spine, and tries to empty all of the loud thought in his mind. He feels a little more like himself as they walk into Nate’s office, and he immediately moves over to the couch and falls down onto it. Nate gets his first-aid kit from his desk before joining him, and they both just look at each other as they try to figure out what to do first. 

“Okay, I think there’s a rule somewhere that says bosses go first,” Ray says after a quick staring match. It’s quick because Ray can’t keep looking into Nate’s eyes when they’re turned towards each other and sitting so close that their knees are staying continuously pressed together, and Ray really needs to get a handle on this crush thing. Some dudes just tried to kill him so they could move up the ranks. He should be more focused on that and less focused on trying to figure out exactly what shade of green Nate’s eyes are. 

“Written or just generally understood?” Nate asks as Ray opens the first-aid kit. 

“I don’t have the How-To-Gangster Manual on me, so we’ll just go with generally understood for now.” Ray gets some alcohol on a gauze square and then glances at Nate’s eyes. “Hold still, and maybe close your eyes. You know, just in case I slip and shove alcohol into your eye.”

Really, Ray just isn’t sure that he can clean the blood off of Nate’s face with Nate staring at him the whole time. He can already feel his hand shaking, and he hasn’t even done anything yet. Nate closes his eyes, thankfully, and Ray starts the process of cleaning the blood off of the left side of his face. The only problem is that it’s kind of difficult without holding Nate steady, but Nate doesn’t move at all when Ray reaches up to hold his chin. (Not the side right of his face, because his jaw and cheek are starting to swell now.) He keeps a light hold on Nate’s chin as he wipes up the blood that’s run down the side of Nate’s face, until he can see the cut next to his left eyebrow. It just takes a small band-aid to cover it up, and Ray drops the bloody gauze into the inside of the lid of the first-aid kit. 

“What’s the verdict? Am I going to live?” Nate asks and peeks his right eye open. Ray’s still holding his chin, his fingertips are pressing against the left side of Nate’s jaw, and Ray can actually feel his body trying to freeze as he feels Nate’s skin move when he smiles. 

“You’re gonna need to ice the right side of your face, or you’re going to look really disproportional. Can’t do anything about all of this though.” Ray lets go of Nate’s chin so he can circle his hand around the entirety of Nate’s face, and Nate’s laugh is quiet and soft and hits Ray low in the stomach. He is so colossally fucked. 

“Okay, your turn. Don’t fight the urge to cry. I promise I won’t tell the others.” Nate says it all while getting supplies out of the kit, so he misses Ray’s epic eye roll. (Does Nate drop his guard and joke like this with everyone else when they’re one-on-one? He always seems a little more distant during the team meetings, so Ray doesn’t know what he’s like with everyone else on their own time.)

“You’re hilarious, Nate. That’s what I’m going to put on your headstone. Here lies Funny McFunnier Fick.” Ray has to stop talking after that, because Nate’s mopping up the blood under his lip and on his chin. 

Ray’s eyes close as Nate lightly touches the right side of his jaw to get him to tip his head back, to clean up the blood that’s dripped down his neck, and then a thumb pressed against his chin gets him to lower his head down. He keeps his eyes closed though as Nate carefully cleans around the cut on his split bottom lip, and he feels like he’s going to fly apart right before Nate finally stops touching him. He doesn’t take his first real breath until Nate’s hands aren’t on him anymore, and he immediately opens his eyes so that Nate doesn’t think there’s something wrong with him. Because there’s nothing wrong with him, except for the idiotic part of him that apparently wants to jump Nate. 

“How’s the neck?” Nate asks him as he sits back a little. Ray rotates his head, feels a little bit of stiffness, but it’s nothing major. He’s still sure that it won’t even bruise. 

“Neck’s fine.” His brain, on the other hand, appears to be broken. Glitchy? Something obviously isn’t right. 

“And your hands?” Ray moves his hands into his lap and looks down, and his knuckles are cracked and bleeding a little. Definitely going to be bruised and a little swollen. His eyes move over to where Nate’s gathering up the bloody gauze, and he sees redness and ragged skin. Ray’s betting he got one of those motherfuckers in the teeth. 

“Same as yours.” Nate pauses to look down at his own hands, studies them for a moment, and then shrugs. 

Nate picks up the bloody gauze in one hand and the first-aid kit in the other, and Ray turns so that he’s sitting the right way on the couch and leans back as Nate stands up. He listens to Nate throw away the gauze and place the first-aid kit back in his desk drawer, and he keeps waiting to hear the quiet squeak of Nate’s desk chair. Only, there is no quiet squeak because Nate sits next to him on the couch. He doesn’t just sit on the end of the couch either. He sits right next to Ray and then leans back, close enough that their shoulders are brushing, but Ray doesn’t want to move. So he stays right where he is and turns his head before opening his eyes. Nate’s already turned his way and looking right at him, and Ray still can’t name the exact shade of green that makes up Nate’s eyes. 

“Godfather is going to keep escalating,” Nate says quietly. If his voice drops any more, he’ll be talking in a whisper. 

“He won’t win.” Ray knows this is the part where he makes a joke or says some other stupid shit, but he doesn’t want to be _that_ Ray right now. He wants to be a little more honest than that. “He has the numbers, but numbers don’t mean shit unless there’s someone to lead them.”

“You trust me that much?” Nate smiles as he asks it, like he’s trying to make light of their quiet conversation, but the look doesn’t reach his eyes. Ray wants to list all the different ways that he trusts Nate, from watching after all of them to having his back in a very outnumbered fight, but he pushes those words down. 

“I’m still here,” Ray says with a grin of his own. 

“Yeah,” Nate sighs and lets his eyes close. He’s still smiling, just a small curve of one side of his lips, and Ray’s still facing him when his eyes finally close for a blink and refuse to open again.

**.xXx.**

Thirty-seven minutes after Nate and Ray left the parking lot, Brad tells everyone to wait in the club while he goes to check on them. He wants to make sure that they’re squared away before everyone comes barreling into the room, and he keeps his steps quick as he hurries down the stairs and then down the short hallway. The office door is cracked open, so he pushes it the rest of the way open and quickly looks around the room.

Nate’s sitting on the couch for once, instead of behind his desk, and he’s leaning back against the couch. That’s not the most surprising thing. Ray is sitting next to him, but he’s slumped to the side so that his head is resting on Nate’s shoulder. Nate’s cheek is propped on top of Ray’s head, and they’re both sound asleep. 

They don’t even hear Brad walk into the room, not even a little bit of stirring, and Brad decides to leave them to it. They fought against eight men and won, so they’ve earned a nap. Brad can update the others for now, and Nate can have his team meeting after he gets some sleep. So Brad closes the office door and starts back up the stairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, I'm sorry that I'm not good at fight scenes. I'm working on improving them, but this won't be the last fight scene in this story so I'll have plenty of chances to write a more detailed scene. I'd love to know people's thoughts on this one, because Ray has finally realized that his feelings towards Nate are not all friendly. (I wonder if Nate feels the same way?)
> 
> If there's any questions about anything, please don't hesitate to ask! I'm always up for explaining my weird ramblings. 
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who has read and supported me! You know who you are, and you are amazing!


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